#I know Link is a strong and capable young man

[smilesrobotlover]

Some phantom hourglass doodles

[jade7b]

Terrible sleep paralysis torment you for months. The problem does not seem to be psychological... what really happens at night? As much as you’re afraid to admit it, something seems to torture you... maybe rape you?

❗️I’m not trying in any way to romanticize what will happen in this shot! Everything you read will be quite dark and strong, so please, if you are sensitive to this, do not interact!

18+/ sleep paralysis/horror/gore/mahito rape you

Rape/Non-con ElementsRapeRape FantasyRough SexVaginal SexRough Oral SexPenis In Vagina SexVaginal FingeringFingerfuckingMahito is His Own Warning (Jujutsu Kaisen)Mahito Being an Asshole (Jujutsu Kaisen)Yandere Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Creepy Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Slutty Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Top Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Blood and GoreGoreMild GorePsychological HorrorBody Horror

Sorry for any errors, this fic is translated from italian!

SLEEP PARALYSIS

-Mahito x Reader-

«How long have sleep disorders been going on?».

«Months», your lips had rippled, «about six months», you had corrected yourself, while you made to wander your tired look on the furniture of your doctor’s office.

He called your name, taking you away from your thoughts.

«I read your medical records, you changed more than three psychoanalysts before you got to me. I wonder, are you sure that it is only this?».

Your eyes had met his. Two heavy shiners made you look like a rag, and the young man in front of you, no matter how professional he tried to be, couldn’t help feeling sorry for you.

What I’m trying to tell you is that even sleeping pills don’t work, and you know that? I tried everything, natural remedies and not-», you were angry, you hated, when they suggested that your problem was only in your head, because it wasn’t.

The more you convinced yourself, the more the doctors turned against you, and even this time it was no different.

«I mean the presence and the phantom sensations of pressure on the chest can be a symptom of post traumatic stress. It is easy for you to experience frequent sleep paralysis for this reason. Perhaps if we faced the problem psychologically it would be better. I think you understand, I can not continue to prescribe drugs, without knowing what could be the trigger».

You had sighed, swallowing. Yet another hole in the water.

Coming out of the clinic where you had gone in the morning, you had inhaled the air of Tokyo as if it were the best air in the world- it was absolutely not and your lungs filled with smog and tar.

You swallowed, your throat was dry, your eyes were burning, your head was beating.

All feelings you had begun to endure.

You were a young girl in your twenties, with a wonderful career ahead of you, a capable and brilliant woman, yet, life had decided to put you in front of all this.

As you walked through the crowded streets of Tokyo, the chaos of the metropolis seemed like a distant echo in your mind. The doctor mentioned the possible link between the trauma you suffered and your sleep problems, but it was difficult to accept that the solution could simply be psychological. You had sought comfort in sleeping pills and remedies of all kinds, but nothing seemed to relieve your tormented mind.

The memory of the incident kept haunting you, the details of the horrible day bouncing around in your head like an incessant echo. You had tried to escape reality, but the pain persisted, crept into your dreams and attacked you in the form of night paralysis and feelings of pressure on the chest.

A few months before the accident happened. A terrible car accident took away the love of your life, your sister.

Seeing her half beheaded between the sheets of the car had horrified you to the point of making you vomit on the spot. You screamed desperately, your brow ragged with blood, and his dead eyes now filled your nightmares.

If only that day you had not chosen the wrong path, you were sure, that now life would not be so unlivable.

Your soul weighed like an anvil, dragged you down, and your wings struggled to give you the push you needed to survive.

The nights were all the same: you lay down in your bed, trying to calm down, trying not to think about anything.

And what happened was you fell asleep... but then... then...

At first, you could only feel the languor of falling asleep. However, soon that numbness turned into something more sinister. An invisible but inexorable presence began to tighten your ankles, crawling along your hips and even creeping into your belly. It seemed like a subtle force, unpredictable, penetrating the depths of your bowels.

The sensations became more and more invasive, as if invisible hands shuffled you from within. As you tried to fight against the immobility that imprisoned you in your bed, your ability to breathe was being tested. An invisible but oppressive weight made every inspiration a titanic task.

«We will make it grow», a voice whispered, «we will make it grow», again.

And then the same hands came to your chest, squeezing you, choking you.

Then you’d wake up, turn on the light in panic, your forehead full of sweat, and your heart rate.

The monotonous routine of this anguish was constantly repeated, night after night. Something, a dark, elusive entity, crept into your intimate space and tortured you mercilessly.

It wasn’t just passing visions or post-traumatic stress hallucinations. Reality was carved into your skin, in painful bite marks on your breasts and bruises scattered all over your body. You couldn’t ignore the physical testimony of what happened during those nights of terror.

You looked for answers everywhere, you explored every rational possibility, but the conclusion was inevitable: you were not crazy. Those marks and scars you were carrying were tangible proof that something dark and insidious was happening.

It was a night predator that fed on your terror and vulnerability. And there was no room for rational explanations or psychological excuses. It wasn’t a matter of post-trauma, something real, at night, crawling into your bed, and it wasn’t something you were hiding from yourself: this presence was raping you.

You couldn’t explain how you came to this conclusion, but inside you the answer was becoming more and more obvious.

And so, desperate, you decided to adopt plan B.

The medium you asked for an audience with seemed to be one of the best. You paid her handsomely, and when you let her into your one-bedroom apartment, she twisted her nose.

You had no knowledge of this world, you had no interest in it, and despite your attempts to pretend, you still felt perplexed.

«Miss», the woman in her fifties had called you, while she was searching the living room, «can you take me to the exact place where the "contacts" take place?».

You had gasped, as a slight fear crept into your bowels and appeared in your face.

« I feel your discomfort, how could you not have it? This apartment is full of cursed energy».

Failing to understand what she was mumbling about, you had obeyed her request, making your way down the narrow corridor, and then opening the door.

You stopped in the window and nodded.

You didn’t mean to cross that threshold, just the thought of it made you sick.

The medium, however, had proceeded with her head held high, turning on the lights of the chamber.

The steps resounded muffled in the carpet, while carefully inspecting the desk, then the blankets and pillows of your bed.

«It happens here...», she whispered. She walked the blankets with her hand, until she reached the foot of the bed, «rising from here», she had crouched, as if she were imitating what that presence did to you. Her hands were on the covers. «it blocks your ankles», her hoarse voice resounded in the walls of the room, «it runs through your legs», she crushed the fingers between the unmade blankets, «coming to your belly», she crushed the mattress as if under her there had been you.

«And then...», her hands went up again, cup-locking on those you imagined your breasts might be.

The woman, lowered her head, had no idea what she was actually doing, but you had to admit that her explanation was accurate enough for you to understand that she was not a charlatan.

«It tastes you».

An unpleasant sensation made its way into your stomach, «I understand», she had said to herself, as she was getting out of bed.

He went through her purse, pulling out what appeared to be a talisman.

«In the realization of the talisman it is very important to respect the hourly and planetary correspondences, in fact there is always a specific day and a precise lunar phase to build and consecrate it. You are lucky, today the Moon and the stars are clearly visible», said the woman while consecrating some.

She placed one right under the bed, one above, and another in your bedroom door.

Perplexed, you frowned, «that’s all?» you asked, «three stupid pieces of paper?».

The medium smiled, «do you have other alternatives?».

The question left you motionless, unable to answer.

«no...», you had answered, driving her back to the front door.

«The curse is powerful, but I am sure that this will be able to keep it at bay for a while».

«What?! With all the money you asked me for? Did you manage only to "keep it at bay for a while"? Are you kidding me?» The woman smiled, then gave a small laugh of derision, «maybe you should have called an exorcist?».

You were so frustrated, so... so...

Bitter tears had run down your cheeks, you had dried them almost immediately, trying to keep calm.

Don’t worry, you thought, crashing on the living room couch, wait to see if these talismans work.

***

With wonder and relief, the sleep paralysis that had tormented your nights seemed to be a distant memory.

A week had passed since you could finally close your eyes without the fear of being trapped in a limbo of impotence. Your night’s rest had become a precious refuge, an oasis of peace that you had begun to fully enjoy.

The evenings followed a reassuring ritual: the return home from work, a hot shower that dispelled the accumulated tensions, a satisfying dinner and finally the refuge in the blankets of your bed. Everything seemed to fall into the natural order of things, as if normality had finally returned to claim its place. However, the tranquility you had so longed for was perhaps only an illusion, a prelude to a new chapter of horror.

In the second week of serenity, a strange feeling had crept into the air.

One night, while you slept deeply, the pungent smell of something burning had disturbed your sleep. Your awakening was immediate, and in the darkness, putting the blankets aside, you realized that something was wrong.

Your eyes slowly adapted to the darkness, and before you, the atmosphere lit up with a sinister light. A crackling blue fire enveloped the talisman hanging from your door.

A sense of disbelief enveloped you as a figure began to take shape.

It was a robust body, but its humanity seemed distorted. A man, or perhaps something that might have looked like a man, materialized before your eyes.

Your mind tried to deny what it saw, but terror took hold of you as the breath became disjointed. Your lips rippled in a desperate sigh, while your terrified eyes closed as if they were denying reality. Gasps and sobs were released from your chest as you carried your arms in front of you, as if that impotent gesture could protect you.

You just hoped the last talismans could protect you, but... well...they couldn’t.

You saw it when they both caught fire at the foot of your bed and a cold breath began to move some of your hair.

«You surprised me», a voice made your blood freeze, «closing me out like this...» it was distorted and gruesome as it echoed in the darkness. It had a stamp that sent chills down your spine, and as you desperately tried to move, your impotence became more and more overwhelming.

His scornful laughter echoed through the air like a macabre background. «You tried, you and that stupid bitch», his mocking tone crept into your ears, causing you another sob of terror.

«Go ahead yes, continue to be afraid, it is even better if you cry».

His body locked you in a corner of the bed, leaving you with no way out. You were alone, you and his dark presence, which seemed to devour the air around you. Every word spoken was like a direct blow to your soul, bringing out a sense of degradation and unspeakable terror.

«Did you really think you could stop me from still possessing you? Naive, stupid inferior human», he whispered in your neck, his breath cold as frost on your skin. «I thought you would behave well, like the good pet you are».

His words were filled with contempt, a humiliation that imposed itself on you like a chain, enveloped your spirit.

His words didn’t make sense to you, and yet, you didn’t have the courage to argue, you had the feeling that if you tried to move a muscle, he would tear you apart right in that moment.

You hadn’t yet had the courage to open your eyes to look your tormentor in the face, let alone have the strength to escape from his clutches.

His hands ran down your hips, embedded in their retracting curve.

They put pressure on you, made you scream in fear.

«I had a continuous thought, I have always had it from the first day in which I have seen you», his lips settled languid in your half uncovered belly. Your chest was hurting, your hiccups were shaking and your throat was parting, making it sore.

«Please», you had whispered, «don’t hurt me», your eyes were still closed, full of salty tears.

You had finally had the courage to speak as you laid your hands on his in a desperate attempt to divert them from yourself. You put a little pressure on him, but the guy on top of you didn’t seem to want to cooperate with you. In your desperate act, you saw that his hands presented what appeared to be scars, perhaps... seams?

«Hurt you?» he laughed almost out of control, «I don’t know, I’ll probably do». Your eyes became two saucers, so scared that who was in front of you couldn’t help but notice it.

«Are you afraid? Yes, I imagine it is so, otherwise how could I feel so regenerated?».

Then his face took shape in front of yours.

His two-tone eyes peered at you in the darkness of the night, so evil, so frightening that they cut your breath. His hair covered his sewn face, it was so surreal it felt like a horror movie.

His hands grabbed your wrists with a surprising force, far beyond what would be expected of an ordinary man. Despite your attempt to resist, his grip intensified, and in response to your affront, he gripped your wrists until they broke.

A deafening and desperate scream broke free from your mouth, but the man’s reflexes prevented you from venting your pain altogether, resting his lips on yours.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

He had the urge to lick your lips and grunt angry when you didn't want to.

With your wrists completely broken by now, you couldn’t defend yourself, so he freed them, putting his big, rough hand in your cheeks.

You were hurt and violated, could something worse have happened?

When his hand slipped in your belly to make room between your legs, you knew there was something worse.

«No!» you cried desperately, «no... no, no-».

«Yes, yes, yes, cute, little…».

Your head was beating, your heart seemed to want to explode in your chest, your sore wrists, victims of a broken fracture, were hurting so much that you missed the air.

«You will love this, you will love to take it, won’t you? Will you become the key to my experiment? You will carry my child so well, yes... you will be perfect».

You weren’t listening to almost anything that was vomiting on you, too traumatized, too aching to focus on his words, and it was bad, since he had just confessed his no longer hidden desire to impregnate you.

His hands stripped you of the oversize shirt you were wearing, lifted it up to your breasts, leaving your sensitive boobs exposed.

«I have raped so many women in my life by curse... but you... you are by far the most beautiful of all».

His hands landed in your ribs, forcing you to settle under him.

With one hand he would block you from the neck, keeping you under control as his head went down into your chest, tickling your collarbones with his hair.

When his mouth closed in your turgid sensitive nipple, you tried to look at the ceiling as much as you could. You just hoped it would be over soon, yeah, it would be over quickly, you’d just be estranged, and everything would just seem like a bad nightmare, right?

You told yourself that, but it seemed more complicated than expected.

His mouth sucked mercilessly, popping into your irritated reddened skin.

Bites and bruises took shape in your body, immediately you were back to being the pitiful girl of a few weeks before, while your body lay untidy between the covers of your bed.

Another sinful kiss reached your lips, but you, once again, had not returned it. Your muteness was followed by some hiccups and supplication but nothing seemed to stop the monster above you.

Your body’s natural reaction to his touch made you felt sick . Your bowels twitched at the thought of pleasure, you hated it, you hated that feeling so much, you would rather die.

«Now you will be a good girl, but there is no danger that you will be a bad girl, isn’t it true, pet?» Your half-opened lips made the curse above you even more aroused.

He bit your shoulder and made you bleed, and then, under your increasingly obvious shock, he took off your shorts and panties.

In a moment of lucidity you had brought your sore hands towards your intimacy, crying like a defenseless little girl and still begging him to let you go, to stop, not to do this to you... but nothing seemed to change his mind.

The curse slowly and forcefully pulled your hands from your most sensitive spot, giggling at you and your despair.

«How rude I am», he smiled , «I didn’t even introduce myself».

You struggled frantically in his grip, «As if I could give a fuck! Disgusting monster!».

The sick look of those who were torturing you became even more intense, He licked away your tears, while keeping you perfectly under his control.

«Oh, then you too have a spirit of survival, I thought you had lost the desire to fight», two fingers crept into your wet folds, surprising you.

You had bitten your lips, unable to restrain your weeping, disordered moans.

«I am Mahito», he had whispered in your right ear, while he was fucking you with his fingers, «keep this name in mind», he said kissing your ear shell.

«I am sure that soon you will shout it of your own free will».

Overwhelmed by his brute strength, you couldn’t help but cry.

Your sexual experiences could be counted on the fingers of a hand, what it was doing to you was something so abominable, and yet, your body could not help but react to unwanted caresses.

Dissociating seemed like something impossible, no matter how hard you tried to prove it, the feeling of his fingers inside of you wouldn’t let you get distracted.

Beyond that, the pain in your wrists grew stronger and stronger.

When you saw the face of the curse dipping between your thighs, settling on your violated pussy, you thought this was the first time someone was eating it, and no, it wasn’t something you wanted to get done; your shyness had always blocked you, but now there were no alternatives.

Still clenching your eyes, salty tears fell down your cheeks, now in a silent cry that heralded your destiny.

It was obvious, you couldn’t save yourself, it was too late, and when his tongue had sunk into your wet folds, you couldn’t help but arch your back to get away from his ruthless mouth.

In that desperate refusal, Mahito grabbed you by the side, trapping you in a cruel vise.

He licked all your excitement, lingering on your little feminine bud, there was nothing more annoying when his teeth grabbed him making your lower abdomen numb.

«No... I beg you, enough... I don’t want it», a guttural lament made you tremble like a leaf while the curse didn’t give sign of wanting to yield.

He sucked, then dipped his fingers in your tight opening.

You would have cum, you would have orgasmed, and you would have hated it, you would have hated yourself so much, so much...

With a choked-up moan you let yourself go into the spasms of orgasm, and as much as you hated to admit, it was painfully enjoyable.

He continued to overstimulate you as your thighs squeezed into his face, prey to a primal instinct that even you didn’t understand.

He caused a few complaints, while, horrified, you had noticed that his hand had rushed to rub the erection in his pants.

With a trickle of saliva tying his lips to your messy pussy, you couldn’t help but think the scene was tremendously erotic. Something made you pulse down there, and you certainly wouldn’t forgive yourself.

«Try to be honest with yourself», his voice teased you, while his hands spread out your legs again.

«And don’t hide», he said by rubbing your clitoris quickly.

Your sighs had become little squeaks of torment.

«e-enough... Enough... Too-»

«Poor little pet», he said slapping you in your core, «you are so desperate... You want more, don’t you?»

You were still crying, louder and louder, as you felt something rigid make room for yourself.

«Indeed...», he said, turning on your stomach, his lips in the shell of your ear, «I want to fuck you like a fucking dog, yes, as if we are two animals».

You were shaking like a leaf, and your wrists were throbbing with pain.

«they hurt me, this position... I can’t...», a slap angrily hit you on your buttocks.

«Shut up... be quiet», he bit you in the lobe, while his hands pushed you in the back, forcing you to adhere to the mattress.

Your butt was high, your femininity completely exposed to him, who was still torturing you with his fingers.

When he penetrated you with his monstrous cock, the squeaking from your throat intensified.

When he had started to move his hips in slow but deep and angry thrusts, you had screamed in pain.

Your pussy opened up to him, wrapping his long and big excitement.

A ring of delicious cream had formed around the circumference of the curse, and the more he stopped to study it, the more his horny cock enlarged.

«Don’t you feel what you’re doing to me?» he pulled your hair, forcing you to suffocate in your pillow.

«Don’t you feel how much we are made for each other?» one more push, one more scream from you.

You were a total mess, so physically challenged, you couldn’t even think straight.

The thrusts had become stronger and faster, his hands now, had run down your delicate neck, clutching him in a vise.

Her teeth sank into your back and shoulders as you trickled blood down and dirty the bed and your shirt crumpled over your tits.

«h-help», you had whispered in terror, unable to think clearly, «please».

«I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but nobody will help you», with three other pushes he had come angrily inside you, filling you with his hot cum. You could hear it drip, while in an animal act, it continued to penetrate you without mercy.

«s-someone... Help me».

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the evil laugh of the curse above you.

«We will be together forever», He kissed your back , imperlated of sweat and blood.

«we will be together forever and you will adore it, you will love me, you will give to me a half cursed son».

Completely unconscious, your vision had become clouded, and even this could not block the cursed spirit.

«Open your legs, it will be a long night, you know?».

[an-idyllic-novelist]

dark schneider with shinobu!reader headcanons - part two

Warnings: ooc, violence, KNY manga spoilers, Bastard!! anime season two spoilers, strong language, violence, mentions of PTSD.

If you are not comfortable reading this type of story, please push the back button and read something more pleasant.

Hey guys, welcome to part two the fluffier version of the yandere headcanons, featuring the handsome, arrogant wizard Dark Schneider of the Netflix's anime series Bastard!! Heavy Metal, Dark Fantasy and the character!reader who is Shinobi Kocho from the beloved world of Demon Slayer aka Kimetsu no Yaiba! The link to them will be here.

For those who just came here and haven’t read part one, please do so before proceeding. The link to part one is here.

As it is portrayed in the series, there will be multiple references to heavy metal bands. I claim no ownership over them, including the lyrics of Operation: Mindcrime, composed by the American heavy metal band Queensryche in 1988 under the album of the same name.

Special thanks to @ccruzmoon, @anniespostssworld, @enryegotrip, and @mitra555 for their feedback and help with making this one of the best sequels I’ve written for a headcanon series in a long while! :)

So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive back into a world of magic and musical mayhem!

Golems from the ancient world aren’t much different than the ones used today. They are sentient, programmed to perform certain tasks, and able to regenerate themselves should their bodies be destroyed by an enemy. In fact, they were deemed as prototypes of an ‘AI - Drone’. Yoko didn’t know much beyond what her father had shown her in the temple’s sacred texts, but she did emphasize just how lucky you were to have discovered one in a weapons’ storehouse belonging to the Dark Rebel Army, with its parts and programming still in excellent condition. You have had it for over a year, and you can certainly tell that it wasn’t used for thermal optics or firing weapons at opponents from great distances like the AI-Drones were originally designed to do in war. 

For one, Led Zeppelin was made of metal dripped in gold, with stubby legs and a long feathery tail as well as wings. It could change its body’s mass from the size of a dumpling to a pillow in the blink of an eye, and had a mouth of razor-sharp teeth that served two purposes: storing items in its body, and showing recordings it took from its point of view. Oh, and biting people who came too close to you, its owner. Apparently, according to the technicians in the samurai residence, Led Zeppelin immediately bonded with you, the first person it saw once they had reactivated its factory settings. 

Well…supposed it is still a tad bit rude to keep referring to Led Zeppelin as an ‘it’ when ‘he’ has always been by your side, acting as a personal assistant and a subsequent comfort pet because goldfish have been extinct for the last century. When the night terrors began occurring last month, however, your Zeppelin had been stuck in the mechanical shop for a month because a few of his corroding parts were getting more difficult to find, courtesy of the Dark Rebel’s Army growing power in the country. 

But now the remaining safe haven in A-Ian-Maide was under attack by two Samurai Shoguns and a herd of sphinxes, your golem’s role would be more important than ever. He would keep Lucien Renlen safe, along with the women and children and the samurai who are stationed to look after them. When you gave this order, the golem shook his body rapidly - clearly he wanted to follow you into the battlefield outside. 

You smiled sadly as you shook your head too, cradling the tiny Zeppelin in your hands. “You have to. If there is anyone in this world who is capable of defeating the Dark Rebel Army and preventing them from reviving the God of Destruction,” You looked up, seeing a raven-haired young man in standard leather armor and about to burst into tears as he looked at you with wide, dark blue eyes. “It is the boy you are protecting. This is my final command as your owner.” When you said this, Zeppelin started weeping. You were startled. Since when golems could cry?

“Ara, ara, come now.” You cooed, wiping away the golden, oily tears with your thumbs. “You must be brave for me, Led Zeppelin. Farewell, my dearest companion.” Pressing a kiss against his tiny horns, you reluctantly took a few steps forward and placed Led Zeppelin on top of Lucien’s head. Giving the golem one final pat on the head, you turned around, ready to sprint from the main lobby and toward what might become your tombstone when a pair of wiry arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tightly from behind.

“[First Name], please don’t go!” You couldn’t feel his tears through your leather armor, and yet his voice was cracked. Desperate to keep you here behind the safety of the castle’s walls….even when these walls may come crumbling down the longer you are here. Untangling Lucien’s arms from your body, you turned around and faced him, covering his quivering hands with your own. 

“Lucien, I can’t. I need to be there for them, for Yoko. I can’t fail as I…as I had failed the two of you in Meta-llicana, the citizens. If I had only been quicker, stronger….none of this would have happened. And you wouldn’t have taken so long to recover. I’m so, so, sorry.” For a brief moment, you saw a glimmer of recognition in Lucien’s eyes. Perhaps you were already losing your mind? 

Shaking your head, you released Lucien’s hands from your grasp….and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Remember this, Lucien. To be born is a blessing. Do not look back in remorse, because nothing good comes from it. And remember to smile, even when it seems like suffering is coming towards you like an avalanche and it’s hard to breathe. But above all else….never forget that you are loved. Yoko loves you, and I love you. You are strong, and even if something happens to me…I know you will keep moving forward.” 

Leaning forward, you gently kissed Lucien. This is the same ritual Yoko had secretly been performing when she thought no one was around, oblivious to just how many times Led Zeppelin has caught her in action and you’ve seen it via the recordings. As the high priest’s daughter, she was the only other person left who could perform the Accept spell that would release Dark Schneider. Yet for the last two years, Lucien’s second identity never emerged. 

But you had hope. You believe that he will return…because he is the handsome, unsaintly, powerful hero of this universe. The show wouldn’t be the same without its main star, and it’s already been five episodes into the second season. 

Reluctantly, you took a step back from Lucien and Led Zeppelin, then another before you turned around and blitzed down the carpeted corridor towards the sound of battle cries, spell-casting, and the deafening roar of the sphinxes. A genocide opera almost fitting for an Insect Hashira ready to lay her life on the line….and bring her enemies down with her, no matter the cost. 

“Let me out! Damn it you brat, I said let me out! Let me help [First Name] or else she’ll get killed out there! Do you want her to die, or do you want her to live with us as the queen of the world we’ll conquer?!” Dark Schneider screamed inside Lucien’s head, pouring more of his magic through the seal that has kept him imprisoned in this weak body. “I’m ready! I’m strong enough to destroy these bastards now! SO LET ME OUT ALREADY, GODDAMMIT!!” 

The rain made the rocks slick, so blitzing from one area of the crumbling castle to another at your speed was almost impossible without slipping and spraining your ankle.  Leaving yourself wide open isn’t an option either, especially when one of the Shoguns was using wire to incapacitate his enemies, just like what he had done with Jorg. Making yourself scarce wasn’t your fighting style, but you couldn’t always do what you wanted to do on a battlefield. 

Still…the wires….

You carefully thumbed one of them, eyeing it carefully before recognition flashed through your mind. Ah, now  you remember! It had been when that girl who fancied herself as redeemable even after she allowed her little brother to kill so many humans and make them his spider familiars! If that’s the case….

You unsheathed your sword, palming the leather handle for a moment before you swiftly swung the blade, cutting down the wires that kept you from reaching the other samurai, Vai leading them. As you walked towards them, it took all of your willpower to not look down and see the bloodied corpses of the men sprawled at your feet. 

He was surprised, yelling how it was possible that you could see the threads. His statement made you blink in shock, pausing your treatment of an injured samurai. The wires were invisible, and yet you could see them? How odd. You were sure they could see it too. 

Shaking your head, you quickly administered the necessary aid to your patient from the sewed pockets of your haori. 

 A full vial of Dragon’s Breath to cauterize the wound, dried vermillion petals soaked in alcohol for disinfection, followed by bandages. “Believe me, I wish I knew too, but this is neither the time nor the place, Vai.” You said, helping the patient onto his feet. “All right, let’s get him somewhere where he can lay low -“ 

That was when you all heard it: a roar that shook the earth, ripping across the air through the valley followed by warmth seeping down your neck. Fear coiled itself in your stomach as the low thudding of footsteps grew closer. Blinking slowly, you turned your head and saw it. A magnificent specimen of a male sphinx, it’s orange mane bristled and teeth baring. 

Oh, dear. That is not good. It’s one thing to have a magical creature being controlled by a wizard, but an angry one? Definitely not good. You licked your cracked mouth. 

“Vai?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you distract that sphinx?”

“What?” 

“I said, can you distract this incredibly terrifying animal long enough so I can strike it from behind?” You said, patience wearing thin. “Can you do it or not?” 

Vai faltered for a moment, glancing at the sphinx before he groaned. “F-Fine, but be quick! It’s resistant to magic!” He exclaimed, taking the injured samurai from you and passing him to another comrade. 

You grinned. “Good thing what I have in mind does not involve using spells.” Bending your knees, you leaned back and blitzed forward. The sphinx unfurled its massive feathered wings, releasing strong gusts of wind that blew most of the samurai away, and high up in the air. Just where you needed to be. You inhaled sharply through your teeth, spinning your body so you were facing the sphinx, your dominant arm pulled back and holding your gleaming ninichrin blade. 

“Insect Breathing: Butterfly Dance Caprice.” 

You lunged forward, stabbing the sphinx in its backside and hind legs with the poison you had applied to the sword prior to the invasion as part of your weekly maintenance routine. You could have targeted the chest and behind the ears, but it would have taken longer for the poison to be absorbed into its body. The areas you struck in the male were much more vulnerable simply because they were used to attract potential females through an intricate dance, similar to what certain exotic birds did during mating season, at least that’s what you read in the encyclopedias back in your old world. 

Landing on the fractured stones of a destroyed keep, you watched in sadistic satisfaction as the sphinx crumbled into a heap, struggling to stand up for just a brief moment before losing consciousness. Good. It’s working. You thought. 

“I’m going ahead!” You yelled. “I’ll take down as many of these sphinxes as I can, and provide cover! If you see any threads blocking your path, tell me and I’ll cut them!” 

“How are you even doing this?!”

“Strike first, ask questions later!” 

And that was exactly what you did. You struck down the sphinxes who weren’t too high up in the air with your poison and sliced through the wires that weren’t coated with the heavy oil Yoko had released, flying across the battlefield like a butterfly just as you had done as a Demon Slayer. 

Who would have thought that one of the people you had saved during an outbreak of purple fever had been a magician gifted in the art of reconstructing an entire object to its original condition, so long as she had a piece of it? 

But there was no time for being sentimental, even for a second. The samurai were counting on you to even the odds that were in their favor. 

 Darting across the ruins of the castle, you heard a maniacal, grating laugh from amongst the sphinx’s roars. Skidding to a halt, you glanced up and saw a figure dressed in white and balancing himself in midair on a wire, holding Joshua captive in a web. Ah, that must be the Sorcerer Shogun responsible for killing Jorg. 

Supposed….it’s time to also test that too, hm? 

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes as you crouched down towards with your sword by your side. Focus on opening the blood vessels in your legs, pumping oxygen through every muscle fiber and remaining absolutely still until you’re ready. You waited…and then you felt it. The muscles in your legs grew taunt, like a bowstring being pulled back and the faintest trace of thunder crackling beneath your feet. You smiled sadly.  Forgive me for using your own Breathing Style, Zenitsu. 

[Eye Color] irises snapped open. “Thunder Breathing: Thunderclap and Flash!” 

You pushed on your back leg, catapulting through the air as blue-white bolts of lightning swept beneath your feet. You raised your sword, slicing through the threads and allowing Joshua to get free.  Because you were ‘running’ at a high speed, you were not able to stop until you collided with the cliffside. You backflipped, using the momentum from your feet and the remainder of the Thunder Breathing technique to propel from the rocky terrain and propel towards the Sorcerer Shogun.

Dark brown hair matted down, half of it covering the right side, with a single red eye widening in surprise as you flew towards him, smiling and inhaling through the mouth again. 

“Insect Breathing, Dance of the Centipede: Hundred Legged Zigzag. Thunder Breathing: Thunderclap and Flash!”

Using two separate Breathing Styles at once is almost impossible because of the strain it puts on the body and having complete control over both techniques without it faltering either of them. You zigzagged across the sky, and with the lightning under your feet, it allowed you to close the distance between you and the Sorcerer Shogun, sword aimed at his neck. But instead of putting the poor fool out of his misery, you just grazed his clavicle area. 

Still, a graze will allow the poison to seep into his body. Won’t be long before he’s knocked out as well. You thought, landing on the ground on wobbly feet. You blinked, steadying yourself and trying very hard to ignore the black dots clouding your vision. Oh dear, methinks that was a bit too much. Well, can’t stop now. You thought, sheathing your sword just when you heard your name being called. Turning around, you saw Joshua running towards you, his mouth open and….saying something? 

Darkness suddenly enveloped you from behind, yet before you could do anything you felt something heavy and furry collide against your back, knocking the air out of your lungs as you were suddenly planted face-first into the ground. You wheezed. You tried to push yourself up, but the pressure just increased. Damn it, you might have broken a rib. Maybe two of them. The deafening roar that pierced your ear told you what was pinning you down. A sphinx. Not the smaller males. This was a female, and it is the larger one of the aggressive species. More than that, she doesn’t play with her food. 

If she’s hungry, she’ll swallow you in a single gulp. 

Nausea clenched at your throat like a fist, making it difficult to breathe through your nose. Your vision was starting to grow blurry. No. No…I can’t…I need…to get…up! 

“It’s okay.”

You froze, startled upon hearing a very familiar voice inside the recesses of your mind. Lucien? Is that…how did you…?!

“Everything will be okay, [First Name]. We’re here now. Just hang tight.”  

That was when the smell of sulfur hit you. The sphinx’s paw that had you pinned down was suddenly off, allowing you to roll onto your back and let air enter your body, even as the flames were grazing  the sleeves of your haori.  You watched with blurry eyes as the magical creature was incinerated….along with the others that were in the sky…by vortexes of red flames that jutted…from the castle’s baileys and rooftops? 

There’s only one person in the world who could perform magic on that scale. You smiled. It’s him. He’s back, after two long years. 

Dark Schneider is more than a little annoyed right now. 

He might have been able to take over after promising Lucien that he will keep [First Name] once he took possession of the body, but the badass comeback he had been planning to make in this series totally got screwed up by that weird-lookin’ peasant! Royal bodyguard? Sorry, no one gives orders to Dark Schneider, he’s the one that hands them out on a silver platter to his loyal servants. 

And why the fuck did the Sorcerer Shogun with Yorazashi threads quickly recover from the poison that his queen had personally given him?! No one is supposed to have plot immunity except for him, the gorgeous and saintly protagonist! 

He’s scripted to have a flashy battle with these clowns too, damn it! Macapine and Ba Thory are going down. He didn’t care if his salary was going to get cut in this episode, [First Name] needed him, right now. 

Raising his hand, the mighty evil wizard summoned the Goa Cyclone spell, followed by Spears ‘o Stone. The last one impaled the Shogun that had bugs in his body. Macapine was sent flying somewhere, and Dark Schneider hoped he would never come back for the rest of the season. Closing his eyes, he began to channel magic into the next incantation; this was a tricky spell, since it required a considerable amount of concentration for him to be able to accurately track down the person he wishes to find. 

Come, you know that you cannot refuse me

Let me into your mind,

So that we can watch the dragon burn 

Beneath the moonlight and stars of Revolution!

Operation Mindcrime!

Purple smoke and sparks of lightning billowed around him, swirling like a rising mist before immediately sinking into the crumbled stones beneath his feet. Dark Schneider’s magic thrummed as it traveled beneath the earth, driven by his desire to seek out the Insect Hashira, looking for the tiniest spec of her own white magic. Once his magic found that thin tendril, he was able to find her. 

She was being cradled by Kai’s arms while Yoko kneeled in front of her, the high priestess using her holy magic. Dark Schneider almost snarled at the sight of small lacerations on his queen’s face, the bruises on her hands and the sound of ribs being pushed back into place, eliciting a pained groan from her.

That’s enough. He thought, walking down the stairs, past the onlookers and Mifune, towards the battlefield with Lars tagging along behind him…and [First Name]’s golem. Yeah, the little bastard didn't like him one bit, not with how much he’s growling and snapping his teeth. He quickened his stride, almost blitzing through the carnage towards where the others were….wait, what is [First Name] doing?!

Yoko and Kai were yelling at her as she wobbled unsteadily towards a partially-eaten samurai, his lower half covered with what looked like the same creatures Ba Thory summoned to try to use on him, the greatest sorcerer in the world. 

“I appreciate your concern Yoko, Kai, but please let me…see what these creatures are. If they are what I think they are….we still have a chance to save everyone!” She looked at them with wide eyes, tired and desperate. “Please.”

Dark Schneider quickened his pace, almost running towards them with a furrowed brow. “Idiot.” He muttered. What could [First Name] even do in her current condition. Moreover, why is she trying so hard to save nobodies who barely made an impact on the second season of this show? She needed to take care of herself before taking care of others. How many close-calls of collapsing from overworking and suffering from night-terrors is it going to take until she understands that she can’t do everything if she’s weak? 

“Hey -” He called out, wanting to know what exactly is going on in this scenario when someone struck him in the back of the head with a fish. Glancing over his shoulder, the wizard felt annoyance and fear coil in his stomach simultaneously as he saw Yoko glowering down at him. 

“Late, late, late! You are so late!” She screamed, relentless in her assault as she continued to hit his head. “What took you so long?! What have you been up to for the past two years?! Almost the entire new cast of characters and we’re at risk of getting canceled unless we do something!” Her fists were quickly replaced with a mace that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “But on top of it all, [First Name] says she can save everyone but we don’t even know how or what she’s talking about!”

“And why should I care what happens to them?” Dark Schneider barked as he rubbed his sore skull, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I don’t care about anyone else except for [First Name].”

The high priestess shook her fist in the air.  “What was that, you ungrateful little-!”

“That’s enough, Yoko!” [First Name] snapped, kneeling beside the fallen samurai next to Kai. Pulling out a scalpel, forceps and corked vial from her haori. 

She made an incision on one of the worms, causing it to squeal and writhe. Kai immediately plunged the tip of her sword into the leech, keeping it still long enough for [First Name] quickly used the forceps, pulling out a slimy, translucent worm about an inch, two inches long, holding it up in the air. 

“I knew it.” She whispered. “This is it.”

“What is it?” Kai asked. 

“This, my dear friend, is a regeneration worm. Difficult to find due to its rarity, but it is capable of healing wounds that cannot be repaired by magic,” [First Name] shared a hopeful smile with the taller woman. “Maybe…bring back our comrades from the brink of death. Like Schen Karr here.”

“You’re serious?”

“Quite.” [First Name] said. “Yoko! I need him!” 

“What?” 

“Trust me! Darsh, could you come here please? You too, Yoko!” [First Name] asked, waving her hand up and down in the air as she looked at him, hope and determination dancing in her eyes. 

Dark Schneider groaned. He knew that look. She wasn’t going to stop now until she collapses, so why does it turn him on so much? Well….he’ll just have to sweep her up in his arms like a princess and give some TLC later, right? Wait….did she just call him Darsh? He felt his face heat up a little. Damn it. Why does it sound so much better when she says than how Arshes called me that in the past?!

[First Name] quickly explained what he already knew about regeneration worms, and where Yoko’s healing magic comes into play. Kai was all for it and took off to inform the remaining samurai to gather what’s left of their fallen comrades. The high priestess went to work on Schen Karr, chanting blessed spells around Schen Karr while Dark Schneider and Led Zeppelin collected the worms. He had no problems finding the bastard Ba Thory and taking him apart piece by piece to get what his queen wanted, but how and why would a golem help out?

He knew about their storage capacity, nothing else beyond that. 

When he saw its jaws open and devour the leeches on the samurai’s body in three bites and regurgitate the worms on the ground in a neat pile by his feet, Dark Schneider withdrew his previous statement. 

While the handsome hero and his trusty sidekick Lars helped collect the worms, [First Name] would insert them inside her patients after she patched them up the wounds that Yoko's magic couldn’t reverse. The reddish-orange hues of dawn soon appeared over the mountainside as the heavy rain dissipated into a light sprinkle. The samurai crowded around, hugging each other or rushing around to help the citizens who got caught in the crossfire, bringing them to either Yoko or [First Name]. 

However, Dark Schneider could see that the healing process was taking its toll on his queen. She kept rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to keep them focused on her task. She needed to rest, and yet there was still a line of people who needed treatment. He commended [First Name] for being as patient as she had been, because he would’ve snapped the whiny warrior’s neck in half right now for refusing to lie still. No one wanted a weird-ass worm inside of them, but she would never deliberately endanger a patient. Yoko agreed, trying to coax the man that everything will be alright, yet he remained defiant. 

Dark Schneider’s eyes narrowed when the idiot slapped his queen’s shaky hand, causing her to drop the forceps and the worm to fall onto the ground. Led Zeppelin gobbled up the little bugger so it wouldn’t go to waste, and [First Name] had the patient pinned down by the throat.

 She needed to stop, now. 

He pushed past the crowd, walking right behind Shinobu and carefully removing her hand from the bastard, pressing his chest against her back for a moment before he scooped her up in his arms. 

“And you’re done! Hey asshole,” He glowered at the sniveling rat. “Show a little more compassion that it was my queen treating you second-rate servants and not me, or you’d be dead already. Actually,” The wizard turned to Yoko. “Let them  die if they keep acting like this. The casting department should have more than enough money left in the budget to hire more actors for this season.”

Yoko shook her head, the corners of her mouth tugging into a small smile before someone else, one of the civilians, came forward and offered to take over. The high priestess nodded, with Led Zeppelin reluctantly staying behind as Dark Schneider walked away with [First Name]. 

“Thank you, Darsh. Although if my memory serves me correctly, I did not say that I am your queen.” The Insect Hashira said, looking up at him with an inquisitive frown. 

“So you’re telling me there’s still a chance.” Dark Schenider responded with a grin.He watched in amusement as she just stared at him, wide-eyed before she sighed,  closing them as she shook her head at him fondly. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still…I’m glad you and Lucien are all right.” 

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“The last battle did take a toll on you, the both of you, Darsh, and if I-” 

“That wasn’t your fault.” 

“But -”

“You weren’t the one who summoned the Demon Mail and used it to attack Princess Sheila or me. That was Abigail. You did what you had to do to ensure everyone had a chance to survive. What happened to Meta-llicana was not your fault, so don’t you dare say it is or so help me I will drop you right now.” He hissed, halting in his trek to look down at her. “Do you understand?” [First Name] didn’t respond, instead she just blinked rapidly at him, face frozen with shock from the words he said before he scoffed, turning his attention to their surroundings. 

It’s not exactly an ideal place to rest, but this area wasn’t too far from the others and didn’t have as much debris lying around. Using his magic, Dark Schneider levitated and transformed  two of the largest rocks into a pillow and a small mattress. He remembered [First Name] referring to them as a ‘futon’. He remembered her telling him, as Lucien, the difference between a four poster bed and what she had been used to sleeping back in her old world. This was the closest thing he could create from how she described them

His queen was…well, she was in awe of his greatness. Her hands clenched, fisting and pulling on the fabric of his shirt before he set her down. Well, actually he kept her in his arms as he kneeled down and tucked her under the duvet. “There. All cozy, isn’t it?” He smirked, resting his chin with one hand as he laid on top of the futon while the other stroked the top of her head. 

Laying on his side next to her, the wizard smiled as he saw [Eye Color] irises fluttering beneath his touch, trying to fight off the exhaustion when it was already a losing battle for [First Name]. Then all of a sudden, she sat up from the futon and he felt something warm and soft press against his cheek. Her lips. She just kissed him. Willingly. Holy fuck. 

[First Name] smiled sleepily. “Thank you…Darsh.” Her serene voice muddled down to a soft, drowsy murmur before she laid flat on her back under the futon, her eyes closing. Five minutes later, her breathing slowed to soft inhaling and exhaling through the mouth. All Dark Schneider could do was stare down at her with a wide, goofy grin and pink cheeks while the dog ears on top of his head wiggled. 

[First Name] loves me. She loves us, Lucien! He exclaimed in his mind, the bushy tail behind him wagging in excitement. If everything goes well, we might even hit third base before the second season is over! When all he heard was a disapproving silence in the background, Dark Schneider chuckled weakly, continuing to pet [First Name]’s head gently. Okay, okay, maybe that’s a little too soon, but c’mon, not even a kiss for the handsome hero who busted his ass to save this show from being canceled forever? We gotta give these viewers something!

[Next will be season 2’s famous bath scene 😉 who wants to get tagged?]

Taglist:

@sleep-all-day-everyday

@theanimekid

@saltyfruitbat

@ccruzmoon

@cassanderasblog

@technikerin23

@justamegafan

@harame

@mitra555

@nunezs-stuff

@xoxo-shy

@currentlyinhell

@swallowtailcherry

[thebottomfromhell]

ONE-SHOT

Female Human (later Demon) Reader becoming Muzans lover

Ok, I will be evil with this one. This is the typical "reader/oc is yeeted i to the Mary Sue role because she is oh so special" but done my own way, which is basically destroy the promt into something more in character, so it might not be everyone's taste. Also being Muzan's part from this post.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Sexism, Power imbalance, Non-consented body modification (being turned into a demon), Narcissistic character, and Slight yandere behavior.

Muzan would never admit humanity has impressed him more than a fingers count of times. There have been several humans he found himself amazed with, but honestly? That only makes them less special. But the fact is still the same, when a human is capable os such a thing, it means they are worth of being more. Of being... almost perfect. Because no matter how many times he finds himself linked to human, humanity is a desease. The desease of getting tired, old, injured, weak and dead.

Not that he would ever go as far as to get rid of humans completely, what would he eat if he did? And raising them as cattle seems rather cruel, not only that but he must admit he enjoys human's products. The technology, the arts, the arquitecture... it would be a waste to get rid of it.

You were, are, impressive, not at the same level of Tamayo, but still an impressive woman he met as he was passing by as human. There was something about you, something he wanted. He couldn't ignore it, even if he did try, even if he had a hard time recognizing it. Specially because he didn't know why. With Akaza, it was his strengh. With Nakime, it was his wickedness. With Enmu, it was his... oddity. With Gyutaro, it was his hatred. With Gyokko, it was his art. With Rui, it was their resemblance. With Hantengu, it was his will and madness. With Kokushibou, it was his power and pride. For fuck's sake, he transformed Douma because of his shitty eyes! But in every case he knew exactly what he was doing and why at giving them their position in the Kizuki system.

Meanwhile, you can't compare to any of them. You aren't half as strong as most humans who called up his attention, you are sane, you are normal, average. Why are you here? In his head? Why does he let you stay near him, even when he should have killed you after switching to a new life. You met Muzan as a child, an odd one, very mature and smart for his age, but also had something you couldn't describe, but it set you off. Specially as he kept staring at you while you followed your routine.

You always made sure to show him bare minimum courtesy, he was the child of someone rich, after all. You didn't really care, until a young man came to you, he was very attractive and you did consider for a few seconds asking to meet or something. You are already an adult but haven't married yet, so people talk a lot about you, mostly condensending or nosy things. Maybe getting someone would stop the talking, as, depending on particular people, can be from annoying to hurtful. But after considering a few seconds, you decided it's not worth it, since you didn't know this man. You never wanted to come off as "desperate", that would make the rumours about you worse.

The thing is that. You didn't know this man, "Hello, Y/N." and yet he knows your name. He has a sweet voice, but something upseting from... you don't even know from what. "Excuse me, do we know each other?" You ask nerviously, and every second you look at him, he somehow manages to be more scary. There is something in the air, something... almost cursed. "We do, actually. But that doesn't matter. Tell me, dear, what do you think of your life?" He asks, but honestly? It feels that this is more to make up a conversation than to actually know about you.

You answer, lying in some details, saying some things mostly because it's correct to say it. In some aspects, you don't feel like other women, like you are not like the other ladies, hence you are also treated differently, maybe that is the reason you never got a fiance, even is it's considered unsightful that a young lady doesn't get any attention at all. Most men think you are "hard to manage", so they don't. You don't really like it but at this point you learned not to care. You also tell some truths, but not really giving so much detail. You just want to leave. There is something about this guy giving you creeps.

"I see." He chuckles a bit, and while it sounded nice, melodious even, it only made you tense up. "Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting asking such a silly question. But I guess you do have something interesting, you want to scape your life." That is not odd to find, most of his demons felt that same way. Akaza wanted to scape his family's death and lack of purpose, Kokushibou wanted to scape his weakness and sense of inferiority to his brother, Douma wanted to scape the numbness of the cult, Hantengu wanted to scape his criminal record and death sentence, Nakime wanted to scape her life as a poor wife of a gambler, even Rui wanted to scape his sickness.

You are no different. You are not special. And yet, annoyingly, he can't shake off his interest towards you. Maybe, because you are not special, he should enlist you with the others. In the best case scenario, you will join the Kizuki system. At the worst? He will get bored of you when you prove to be useless. Because, while attracked, he doesn't have the patience to stay by when there is so much to do. He can only have the best and the most useful assets by his side. Prove yourself then.

You didn't even manage to blink before you feel a potent sting of pain in your skull, the smell of blood that runs through your face makes you panic, but you can't move. The pain becomes numb as a liquid, an odd liquid, is... injected to your brain. It burns, but every pain is subdued. Then you feel cold air against your flesh as he removes his hand. "Join me, my dear. Prove that you deserve to be at my side." Everything else goes in a flash, as you become more overwhealmed and your body stretches, your skin becomes ick, your blood preassure rises. Everything becomes pain for a moment... and then nothing.

No pain, no cold, no nothing. Just hunger, hunger for more blood. For him. But humans will have to do, because you are just so hungry you can't think straight. Did you ever? Because now. It's just your hunger and him what matter. "You are doing well, Y/N. Prove yourself worth it, and I will have an special gift for you." How could you reject that?

[sass-squat]

Part 1 of the Linked Universe Winged Au! Starting the series off with the bird man himself, Sky!

Next >>>

In my headcanon, I believe that the people of Skyloft have a relationship with their Loftwings that is similar to the Air Nomads and Sky Bison in ATLA. Just like how the Sky Bison were the original Airbenders and the companions of the Air Nomads, the Loftwings were the ones that taught the people of Skyloft how to fly and remain as their "other halves" to this day.

This idea was taken from the canon dialogue in Skyward Sword that states, "Skyloftians consider themselves to be one half of a pair until they are made whole by the Loftwings. When a Skyloftian is young, they meet their bird companion under the Statue of the Goddess. Having a Loftwing and being able to ride it separates the kids from the adults."

This sign of a Skyloftian child turning into an adult is shown as the kid meets their Loftwing counterpart and begin losing their baby feathers. As they grow up, their feathers will gradually molt and be replaced with colors the same plumage as their Loftwing counterparts. Afterward, their Loftwing will guide and teach them how to fly with the help of their parents.

Now you may be wondering, if the people of Skyloft have wings of their own, why do they still ride their Loftwings? Well one reason would be because the children on Skyloft still aren't able to fly for the first several years of their life. As a parent who may have one or more children, having a Loftwing to ride on would be a huge help rather then struggling to carry children and fly at the same time. There are also other circumstances to consider such as carrying large loads such as groceries or furniture, flying far distances, and combat that are all made easier with the help of a Loftwing.

Now back to Sky, seeing as his Loftwing is known for its bright crimson feathers and is modeled after the Shoebill bird you can expect the same characteristics to be shown in his own wings for this au. Despite his poor running stamina, he's a VERY strong flier, if not the best out of all the Links due to growing up in the sky and having a giant bird teach him all the tricks. However, as shown in Skyward Sword, "Loftwings cannot fly during the nighttime since they have a terrible night vision, and only those which have been specially trained can fly in the dark." Sky has most certainly had special training to fly in the dark due to his history at the Knights Academy so he is capable of flying in the dark, but I do believe that his night vision is worse than other Links.

Anyways, that was a lot, so kudos to those who made it through all that lore dump! Let me know if you want to know more and who you want to see next! 😊

[tulipe-rose]

Imagine how ironic, if not hilarious, it would be if yet another ginger took his last breathes while laying between Dazai's arms. I take it to be an interesting scenario multiple accounts attempted writing, and succeeding magnificently at that. I really enjoy reading the bitter tragedy interpreted by dozens of unique perspectives, such that I though I might as well add in my own. (Someone else probably thought of this first, so please don't call me a thief. If you do find a similar opinion, I'd appreciate it if you could politely link the post for me to read.)

Chūya Nakahara. Great Port Mafia executive, and wielder of his infamous gravitational ability; one of the most fearsome abilities out there. Enough to spark terror in the hearts of those whom once dared to oppose him, and survived to witness the light of day by some miracle. Said ability however, doesn't stand alone. The demon Arahabaki, a power that bears great weight on the ginger head's shoulders, occupies the young man's body around the clock. When activated, all sense is lost,and blind rage is left to lead.

Such a devastatingly extraordinary sight, quite fit for the demonic entity.

Finding beauty, or positive significance in such a hazardous display was something unique to the demon prodigy alone.

Chūya never truly resorts to using the Arahabaki demon unless backed into a corner, having complete faith in his partner's capability of halting him when the job was taken care of.

This time was supposedly no different. There occurred a fierce battle on a certain tranquil night, one that'd go down in history. There wasn't much of an option, it was a do or die situation, the stakes being the lives of his comrades. Chūya never hesitated when it came to protecting those whom treated him well, and had a significance in his heart. He'd never abandon them, even if they were to throw him under the bus. He was far too loyal.

Anyhow, Chūya slowly starts reciting the verse he seemed all too familiar with, before slowly descending into a feral state. The battle commences, and it's an utter disaster.

The enemy won't budge, and the corrupted Mafioso would be sent into more of an unintelligible state of madness, desiring destruction.

An issue arises, and that would be the absence of a particular lanky-beanpole, waste if bandages. By now, Dazai would be stepping in to break Chūya free of his corrupted chains, yet he's nowhere to be seen. Hell breaks loose, and the Arahabaki demon inflicts it's final blow.

...

Chūya Nakahara's body would crash to the ground before collapsing. His consciousness returned to him with great strain, and he was aware his last moments were his current. A faint sequence of haggard breathing could be heard. Though not having enough strength to take a glance at them, he knew whom these breathes belonged to. He knew that sound like the back of his hand; they didn't know each other for so long for nothing.

A soft croak escaped his partner, it's goal to grab the bandaged man's attention. The tone of voice was extremely faint and airy, yet Dazai paid undivided attention to every word. "'Agh... Hurts like hell..."

The messy man races over to cradle his partner's body, sensing the consciousness withering away. "Oh Chūya... You..." Dazai repeated to himself more than anything, his face rested into a frown, whispering in a low tone laced with subtle desperation. Regret was evident, and an expression that had been hidden away for far too long adorned his face next; sadness.

Dazai readjusts Chūya's position in his arms, "Now, now, Take it easy." Chūya looks on in mock irritation, before coughing up a handful of blood, causing him to recoil in exhaustion. "Damn it... This is probably it for me... Though I had no idea waking up was an possible... I'm... saying this only once... .. Don't you dare die, you damned Mackerel... That weretiger needs you..." Dazai looked on in muted horror, anxiety, strong denial and sorrow. The moment he never assumd to come, the one that he had happily dreamt of; it's here, and Dazai couldn't help but feel helpless. He held Chūya tighter, never daring to interrupt. "Ane-san..." His speech was sluggish, and his breathing patterns were inconsistent. Most of his words came out incoherent, and much was left unsaid, but Dazai knew what was to be done.

''AUGHHGU..." Pools of blood spewed out, staining his clothes further, his consciousness blacking in and out. "Ugh... I wasn't expecting it to be peaceful anyway... You- know... What to do... So I'll leave it to you..."

Abrupt silence hit, and the ginger's body went limp; embracing a long overdue rest.

The brunette gave his partner a melancholic look, clutching onto the small statured corpse gracefully lumped in his hold.

〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

(I kind of hate how it turned out ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡. Whatever--, moving on with life.

I personally view this as platonic soulmates/Friendship where bonds go deeper than blood/complicated siblings????(Not really), please don't judge me ＼⁠(ﾟ⁠ｰﾟ⁠＼⁠))

[mamasplat]

Why do I care so much about deciphering character ages in Pokemon?

Simply put, angst. Or in long terms-

The art of storytelling is not so cut and dry, anyone with basic media literacy knows this. There is so much subtext and unspoken information that rings loudly in the implications of a story, something as simple as the age of an MC will dictate how heavily their experiences will affect them. Using the Gen6 games as examples (XY and Omega Ruby specifically)

By figuring out where to place Calem Serena and Zinnia in age, the story they live through gains added context. They all share the same bracket of 18-19 meaning they are in they’re late late teens and budding into the incoming subconscious weight of young adulthood, the subconscious urge to be stronger and reckless to prove yourself as capable in the real world; while still being young and having so much to learn. They have further motive to get involved in the heavy actions they take and will fall and break down even harder when they fail. Such is the right of growing up.

And for more adult characters, the same still holds true.

Doing the same thing I did with the kalos protags age by calculating off of a canon characters official age (emma) and then taking into account mannerisms dialogue and design; Admin Tabitha from team magma is officially 27, stated by himself. So going off of the work place hierarchy, Leader Maxie with his experience and status should be in his late 40s to maybe early 50s, making him the prime age for an early onset midlife crisis, linking that to his past relationships with Archie and the reasoning for making his team, his clear strong sense of justice even if misplaced, you have a man who can quickly spiral into a rather pitiful sight if pushed too hard in the wrong direction. First he bares his teeth, then he whines. Like a scared dog trying to protect itself and the image he has made for himself.

Meanwhile Courtney who is evidently more experienced than Tabitha is confirmed to have been with the team longer than him, as his paperwork is still seated on her desk, seems to be in her early 20s, I originally assumed she was in her mid 20s but then she released in pokemon masters and I was able to study her behavior more closely, she has this uncanny glimpse of childlike wonder at times that makes me believe she’s maybe younger than Tabitha, that added to the fact Tabitha seems to look out for her with her social struggles, almost taking on a brotherly role it seems.

Her being in her early twenties adds more weight to her codependency on Maxie as well as her reckless devotion, she’s younger and somewhat impressionable, she’s not against violent action to protect her passions.

And because I was able to gather Courtney had more experience while being younger I can come to the conclusion that it’s very possible Courtney was a science prodigy of some sort, as she is known in her field. And seeing she’s been with team magma longer and has evident close bonds with Maxie, it’s even more possible they worked together when she was younger.

Originally that led me to the thought she might have worked in relation to the Devon corporation, but with the art of visual storytelling in Sea Mauville, it’s not insane to assume Archie and Maxie may have worked together with the Mauville Corporation and that’s what makes them so jaded in modern day, a bad work environment being a stepping stone to their fall from grace. By Sea Mauville’s writings alone I don’t see them being against overworking a young teen prodigy. It’s possible maybe leader Maxie knew Courtney from his time there and brought her onto his team when the company went under. (This also means I need to retcon tf out of my in character Courtney blog.)

This also can explain Courtney’s role playing more into a team disciplinary, her time in Sea Mauville so young could’ve taught her to be more aggressive in order to earn her respect and get better outcome from rookie labor, as it’s heavily shown grunts seem to fear Courtney in some respects.

And ALL of this is merely the writing on the wall I can read when I take into account the age of our cast

[haru-natsuka]

The past (Lilia Vanrouge x Female Reader)

Genre: Romance, Angst

Do you know the secret of Lilia's for keeping his child-like appearance?...

(The picture is not mine. It's belongs to its rightful owner. Here is the link.

The tall young man get off from the stolen horse and immediately dashed to his mansion although his body screamed for him to rest upon excessive exhaustion from the unstoppable usage of his magic during the just-ending war. He was in no capability to use his magic or he might even go overblot. Therefore, he could not use any sort of magic which include teleportation too.

His long magenta highlighted hair was tied messily in a ponytail to clear his front view. He did not need another hassle to be in his way as the war had already done its best part in it.

Using his outstanding hearing abilities as a part of bat, the result was... nothing, only silence greeted him which was not a good sight, rather, it was a bad omen for him.

Humans very much lived with a heartbeat and his wife was a human. You were a human which means you could.... no he could not even think about the word. You and he had promised to be with each other for the longest time possible.

"It's your duty, Lilia darling. Two weeks are not that long compared with the previous wars."

"The time is only an estimation, my beloved wife. It can be longer. I should be on vacation, spending time with you for a month, until the fruit of our love is born." Lilia rubbed your growing stomach affectionately with a pleasant smile crafted on his lips. The sound of your heartbeats with his child gave him serenity as it was a melody to his ears and it never failed to be so.

"I know you will be back, Lilia darling. I- we'll be waiting for your return." With your words, there was a light kick inside your stomach. You looked at your husband in surprise and excitement and Lilia, who felt it through the palm of his hand responded the same before planting a kiss on top of your stomach.

"I take that like you, also willing to wait for me, our little blossom..."

Only his heels resounded and echoed in the mansion as the mansion was really in deep silence. There was no sight of maids or butlers scattered around, tending to their duty. There was no sight of you, welcoming him with your warm hug like you usually did whenever he return home.

Rather he could smell you pretty strong as the smell of your blood filled his nose trail and yet it smelt different. Lilia heavily brought his long pair of legs towards you, following your scent while mentally noticing another blood splattered on the wall. His already cold body became colder as he watched the scene himself. It was much like his mansion was in a war too.

Upon noticing your body lying lifelessly on the wall across the first-floor hallway, his knees felt weak as his body immediately collapsed beside you in too much disbelief. He brought his shaky hand and caressed your ice-cold cheek with his thumb.

Wake up, my beloved wife. You usually would kiss my palm whenever I do this right. What happens to you?

Lilia's pair of teary eyes trailed lower, particular stop on your stomach where your cloth was soaked wet with your blood on that area. It was flat now and no your pregnant bump visible anymore, instead it was placed with a deep hole.

The entire time, his shivering just worsen as he was in between denial and accepting the truth. He hugged you weakly into his arms, placing his chin on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and combing your hair with his hand full of your blood.

Should he just use black magic to return to the time, where you were much still alive, where both of his precious people still breathe? Why did you leave him too early?

Lilia wanted to find out the truth, first, so he could know which ungrateful being disturbed his wife and unborn child. His child with you is just one month away till he would be born. He already planned his retirement so how could everything turn into a disaster within a matter of time.

With his last energy, Lilia case magic around the mansion so he could seek the past and see the situation himself. The house glowed in green before he could the scene unfold in front of him in a hazy manner.

"Madam! Please use the secret path. The human army is here!" A maid held both of your arms in a panicking state as the shouts from other servants were continuing from one to another.

As you are about to let her guide you, her blood spurt on your face some. Her eyes locked with yours to ask for help and yet you could not do anything when her life already vanished from her wide-open eyes. The sword when through her heart exactly. Within seconds the same fate met you but he stabbed your stomach instead your heart to let the madam of the house die slowly and painfully.

Once a year, Lilia would come back to his attended mansion to reminiscent his time with you. Blood from the war where he lost you had long been clean as several centuries already passed. He also had changed a lot, more mature due to his endless experience in life and he also had become a father now to another human.

Once a year, he would stare at the picture of his family hung in the centre of the hall. It consisted of the present with you and him only as you were still pregnant with your first blessed child at that time and it was evident with the large stomach you carried. He could only imagine what it was like for the picture filled with the three of you.

You who would look so motherly like and he would look like a great father while playing with his son. The picture would be more alive and lively for sure. He laid his cheek on his open palm as he stroked his much rather youthful cheek. Since your death, he had kept his child-like appearance to cope with the tremendous loss he faced.

"Who, my beloved wife thinks the child will take after more?"

"Of course, he will look so identical as you, darling Lilia."

"You seem very sure with that. What's my beloved wife's secret?"

"My instinct told me so!"

Other Diasomnia's one-shots :-

Painful Growth (Malleus Draconia x Female Reader)

Time (Silver x Female Reader)

Technology (Sebek Zigvolt x Female Reader)

[11queensupreme11]

Just wanted to ask (not sure if this got sent properly) but how could a loser!girlflop!MC NOT set back feminism?

Especially in the premise of your fic, where, if the tags are anything to go by, the female girlflop mc will lose everything she holds dear including her mental stability and bodily autonomy to five or more overpowered MEN (granted they are gods, but still men.)

The main difference between her and OG!Percy, who got both the love of his life Annabeth and a pretty set future at New Rome College? Their gender.

Just to explain, I for one fully, or at least mostly understood what I was getting into when I began reading Arsenic Blues. I saw the Dead Dove tag, and know how to differentiate reality from fiction.

However, there’s a possibility that some loud mouthed single braincelled men out there (or women with internalized misogyny) that considers a fem!Percy with practically the same strength, abilities, and personality, too pretentious or something, began reading your fic after seeing the tags to get off on fem!Percy being non con fucked out of her mind, traumatized, and knocked down a peg or billion, reduced to a mere common victim of the gods, because they don’t like the concept of a strong fem!Percy. Cuz surely a loser coded girl saving Olympus is just a fluke and she needs to be put in her place by capable men😒

(This possibility is of course not your problem nor responsibility of course, but it still does not negate the fact that it sets back feminism, as some may use it as “proof” that women are inferior idiots that can’t be trusted with power.

“Look at OG!Male!Percy! He saved Olympus and the world twice with little to no major losses, got the girl, and has a bright future! Look at fem!Percy. This idiot managed to destroy her world in her stupid attempt to do what only a male version of her could! I knew that first time was a fluke!)

An example of this would be Zenitsu from Demon Slayer, ( a loser coded cringey but cute badass, first character that came to mind), who has a pretty large fan base despite his loser personality. Make Zenitsu a girl, and all of a sudden everyone is bashing her for being the weak link, dead weight, pick me bitch.

Or using TBOSAS, some people truly blame Lucy Gray for leaving a clearly psychotic person and says that the Hunger Games were her fault for leaving. It’s her fault that Snow turned evil, blaming the woman for the man’s actions.

(you sent this twice, but the only difference is the last paragraph, so im just gonna answer to this one instead of repeating both, hope you don't mind!)

i truly don't believe my fanfic is gonna set feminism back because, as you said, it's not my responsibility if some incel or girl with internalized misogyny sees it and uses it as a "gotcha" that "hahaha girls are weak cuz look what happened to fem!percy".

no normal person is gonna read my fic (or any book like this in general tbh) and suddenly think "omg.... girls are inferior to men! this book told me so and i'm gonna take it as fact!". if someone does think that, then they already had issues to begin with way before they started reading. my fic did not give them those issues.

normal ppl don't let themselves get influenced by a book in such a way because they've already gotten a solidified sense of right or wrong and they should already know "yeah the stuff happening to this MC is bad and not at all their fault. anyway! time to enjoy more of their suffering 🤪".

UNLESS ofc, they don't have a fully solidified sense of right or wrong, meaning they're just way too young to be reading my fic (or books like it). even then, not really my fault because i already gave out the warnings and even ao3 gives an additional "are you sure you wanna read this?" page. people can't control who reads the fics/books, they can just give out warnings

also, about the og male!percy vs my fem!percy thing, i can easily just write fanfic about og!percy going through the same thing. then what are they gonna say? in fact, there already ARE some juicy dark fics about poor og percy, savior of olympus, being reduced to just another victim of the gods (there's actually a lot more dark fics of og!percy going through traumatizing shit then there are fem!percy ones hehe 😍)

[luimagines]

First for the Soulmate AU????

OOOoooooooHHHHH!!!! Yes.

Coming right up dear Anon!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

All your life you had a little drawing of a lion with a sword behind it on your calf.

You had known since you were little that it represented your soulmate. Something important to them. Something that encapsulates their being.

Now that you were traveling with this group of hero’s the sword now has a name.

The Master Sword. (Or Goddess Sword depending on who you asked.)

It’s wielder was a kind young man. He claims to have made it the sword future generations have come to know and revere. But you don’t see how a lion would come into place with him. He seemed to be more flighty and free spirited. A bird would have suited him better.

But surely if the sword was right in front of your face your soulmate would have to be connected to it somehow. Who else than the very hero who inherits it?

That was until you met... him.

He was tall, imposing and dignified in a way you’ve never seen a man be before.

You were drawn to him for reasons beyond your own comprehension. It was almost magnetic... this... pull, that told you that yo had to get to know him better. you had to know what made him tick. you had to be by his side. You had to learn everything you could about him

You had feared that you were being annoying but he opened up to you. It was slow. It was at times a bit turbulent. But something told you he was worth it. That this whole ordeal would be worth it.

 You had taken a hit by an arrow one day. It had completely cut through your pants, luckily only glancing the skin of your calf as you ran and fought through the forest until you reached the other side of the monster hoards.

It had knocked your balance a bit but you were quick to try and keep your feet under you. You swung your weapon and decapitated the monster without remorse and without hesitation.

Another comes from the woodwork. It’s bigger. Stronger. And about to start giving chase right as you enter its line of sight.

A bit winded, you steel yourself to face it head on.

Only for First, as he came to be called, jump over it from behind and ram his sword into his head as is it was simply jello. The monster crumbles like a too dry cookie and lays lifeless on the forest floor just in front of you.

First heaves in a breath and throws his hair back. His grip on his weapon tightens and he looks at you for a moment before you can see his eyes ever so slightly shift downwards.

He sees your blood.

He doesn’t hesitate to step forward and grab your hand. “Come. The monsters are thinning.”

“But- I can help!” You cry and stumble after him. “We’re not done here.”

“The others are capable. They are strong. You are wounded.” He says in a hushed tone. “You are bleeding.”

And well, when he squeezes your hand so gingerly, your heart gets squeezed with it and you’re inclined to go with him.

He sits you back near the camp and begins to take out his water jug. First takes off his scarf and wets it. He doesn’t think twice before he applies the water to your leg and begins to clean the blood.

“Link.” You say in a hushed whisper, scandalized. “Your scarf!”

“It’s already red, My Dear.” He smiles softly at you. “Fret not. It can be washed regardless.”

Then he freezes.

You look down and see that he’s caught sight of the mark. For some reason, the way he stares makes the moment and the fact more intimate and you get self conscious.

“Uh,... My soul mark.” You explain. There’s no doubt in your mind that he recognizes the sword as well. He had also been one to wield it.

First traces the lions face delicately with his fingertip. It sends little sparks of energy up your leg and up your spine until it disperses and tingles through your scalp. He gulps and goes back to cleaning the superficial wound.

“First?” You ask attentively. “Is everything alright?”

He pauses, seemingly unable to talk. First cannot look you in the as he reaches over to take off his arm brace. It’s a practiced movement and he rolls his sleeve up with one go.

It’s more attractive than you thought it had any right to be.

He rolls his arm over to show you his inner forearm and you gasp.

There... in all it’s glory, his own soul mark. It’s a favorite, borderline indispensable, childhood toy of yours and your favorite flower curled around it.

You can see why it was hard for First to speak. Suddenly your teeth seem glued together and your spit is solidified in your throat. You reach to poke it.

It’s real.

First takes a breath and reaches out with his other hand, his scarf lain between you both. 

“I had a suspicion...” He says lowly. “I have had no other person quite capture my attention in the way you have.”

He reaches over to take a strand of your hair and gives it a tender kiss. “What are the odds.”

“About the same of the hero being named Link time and time again.” You quip back just as silently.

He chuckles. And it’s real, it’s deep and it’s boyish.

“May I kiss you?”

He steals your breath away once more and you can only nod.

[fangbangerghoul]

Heavy Metal Lover

Chapter 3: Delinquents and Discarded Citizens Wc: 2049 Starfield fanfiction Delgado x Ghoul Summary: The Crimson Fleet leader is trying to string all the collected information together. Little does he know there is someone who may be able to complete the pretty little bow of an answer.

New Chapter out! I plan to try to post on Mondays! So, keep a look out every monday for new chapters! Snippet below the cut but you can read the whole version on AO3. (link within the title)

Chapter 3: Delinquents and Discarded Citizens

“Hosita puta!” He expelled with an agitated breath. The slates and notes sprawled in front of him were barely congruent, but the tickle in the back of his brain told him they were related in his cause. The Legacy was still top priority for him. Even with the loss of some informants that worked for the Fleet, he was determined more than ever to bring the Crimson Fleet to an upper echelon within the Settled Systems. His disastrous ragtag of delinquents and discarded citizens were capable enough if led with a strong fist. He had promised himself a long time ago that before he was forced to leave this world, he would bring them the victory they all deserved.

“Boss?” The prepubescent voice of a younger man interrupted his train wreck of thoughts. It was like nails against a chalk board and the interruption was not welcomed for Delgado’s current mood. He lifted his eyes to the lanky man in front of him who ended up being Murdock, of course.

            “This better be good.” Delgado responded with gruff. He was trying to hold back the anger that emanated from his core. The fresh edges and puffy brown top of Murdock’s hair was styled purposely and an odd choice to Del. The Neon City kid had a few of the culture’s usual piercings and had been a part of his Fleet for 3 years now. You could take the kid out of the city but not the city out of the kid. Murdock had not grown completely into his manhood, but the young man at least knew how to follow orders. Most of the time. Murdock shifted subtly from foot to foot and Delgado straightened his posture to look him more head on now.

[ask-the-nine-links]

Dear little Link,

Are you eating enough? Are you staying warm? You can always come back home to grandma if you want any soup or a sweater or anything you might need. I know I shouldn't worry too much -- you've turned out to be such a strong, capable young man -- but I still can't help but remember how small and fragile you used to be. I was looking through these photos the other day. My were you cute! I bet your friends would like looking at these too, so I've sent some! I always end up making extra soup, so invite them over the next time you visit! In the past couple of weeks, Aryll came by to visit, so I made her favorite soup. I ended up making so much that I invited Tetra and her whole crew inside to have some! You should have seen it -- that crowd can eat! They were all saying, "More rounds of soup, please, grandma!" with soup on their faces! I've saved up some rupees for you, so make sure you search the bottom of the letter.

XOXO Love you,

Grandma

Sky: Aww, looks whose getting letters now~

Wind: YOU FUCKER GIVE THOSE BACK.

Sky: Its only fair I look into yours if you look into mine, yes? Your grandma looks like a very sweet person.

Wind: ...fair enough, and she is. I can't wait to see her again, I miss her and Aryll.

Sky: We can visit soon enough, Sailor. Then we can try the soup you are always talking about.

Wind: HELL YES GRANDMA'S SOUP IS THE BEST.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Yellow Face pt 1

Now and again, however, it chanced that even when he erred, the truth was still discovered. I have noted of some half-dozen cases of the kind; the Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual and that which I am about to recount are the two which present the strongest features of interest.

Aha, so Sherlock isn't going to solve this one. Interesting. I feel like ACD uses this device specifically to make his audience want to beat Holmes at his own game.

Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise’s sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of energy, and he seldom bestirred himself save when there was some professional object to be served.

This is the most relatable Sherlock Holmes has ever been, and he's been pretty damn relatable. Well, not the boxing thing. But the wanting exercise to have a purpose thing.

Save for the occasional use of cocaine, he had no vices

Just the cocaine. 'He didn't do any drugs - except the cocaine, obvs' feels a bit like saying 'He never drives - except for the drag racing'

For two hours we rambled about together, in silence for the most part, as befits two men who know each other intimately. It was nearly five before we were back in Baker Street once more.

Wow... I'm trying very hard not to do queer readings of these stories (idky, I just feel like it's obvious) but sometimes things come up and I know phrases have changed in meaning. But is there any doubt as to why people romantically link these characters?

“This is Grosvenor mixture at eightpence an ounce,” Holmes answered, knocking a little out on his palm. “As he might get an excellent smoke for half the price, he has no need to practise economy.”

We get to see his encyclopaedic knowledge of tobacco ash in action. Not just a reported skill.

Then he has bitten through his amber. It takes a muscular, energetic fellow, and one with a good set of teeth, to do that.

When I was a small child who had just graduated to glass rather than plastic cups, I used to bite bits out of them. I wasn't particularly strong, although I did have quite good teeth back then. I was just quite stupid and didn't understand the consequences of my actions. However, I have never smoked a pipe, so don't know if biting down on it is a traditional part of the experience.

“It’s a very delicate thing,” said he. “One does not like to speak of one’s domestic affairs to strangers. It seems dreadful to discuss the conduct of one’s wife with two men whom I have never seen before. It’s horrible to have to do it. But I’ve got to the end of my tether, and I must have advice.”

Is this going to be another story where Holmes tells people to talk to their spouses?

From every gesture and expression I could see that he was a reserved, self-contained man, with a dash of pride in his nature, more likely to hide his wounds than to expose them.

Hey, Watson. Look at you reading people. Good for you.

And now, since last Monday, there has suddenly sprung up a barrier between us, and I find that there is something in her life and in her thought of which I know as little as if she were the woman who brushes by me in the street. We are estranged, and I want to know why.

Oh yeah, they need to talk to each other. Communication problems.

She went out to America when she was young, and lived in the town of Atlanta, where she married this Hebron, who was a lawyer with a good practice. They had one child, but the yellow fever broke out badly in the place, and both husband and child died of it.

Well this is already tragic and we haven't even got to the mystery yet.

"I have seen his death certificate."

That's weirdly specific, while also being vague pronoun use - the husband or the child? - and also a totally normal thing to say. I guess it's the husband because... that would be necessary for the marriage? But why bring that up? Like, from a Doylist perspective it makes sense to provide that information to the reader, but it's such a weird sentence to just slip in. I'm sure this information won't be at all important later on.

“There’s one thing I ought to tell you before I go further. When we married, my wife made over all her property to me—rather against my will, for I saw how awkward it would be if my business affairs went wrong. However, she would have it so, and it was done. Well, about six weeks ago she came to me."

That is... definitely a choice she made. It doesn't seem like the best choice, especially since apparently it was all her idea. I suppose there must have been a reason for it, but Effie... not sure it was your best idea.

“’And you won’t tell me what you want it for?’ “’Some day, perhaps, but not just at present, Jack.’ “So I had to be content with that, though it was the first time that there had ever been any secret between us. I gave her a check, and I never thought any more of the matter.

OK, he's already one of the most respectful husbands we've seen in these stories just for this. He agreed to look after her money, but to give it to her with no questions asked if she needed it. She asked for a large sum of money, so asking 'what for?' is genuinely a reasonable question, but when gently reminded of his promise he agrees to give her the money with only a little more curiosity. I'm not going to quibble about him questioning her slightly. According to the Bank of England, she asked for the equivalent of £10,000. If your spouse asks for £10,000 randomly one day it's pretty natural to ask what it's for... or you're a billionnaire I guess.

Now, she's a bit sus right now. That's a lot of money on no notice. I guess she has some skeletons in her past she has to pay off in some way.

But also, if you 'never thought any more of the matter' then why were you thinking of it enough to bring it up now? Clearly you definitely thought more on the matter... It strikes me that I may have praised you too soon. You don't seem to be being entirely truthful.

"I could not tell if the face were that of a man or a woman. It had been too far from me for that. But its color was what had impressed me most. It was of a livid chalky white, and with something set and rigid about it which was shockingly unnatural."

Mask? We're all agreed it's a mask, right? livid white, set and rigid? That describes a mask. Or a robot. But if it's a robot, then this is not the story I was expecting and I've really forgotten a lot about these stories since I last read them.

It's not a robot, right?

In the alternate universe where the 5 orange pips killer is the restless ghosts of the murdered, this is a robot.

She was deadly pale and breathing fast, glancing furtively towards the bed as she fastened her mantle, to see if she had disturbed me. Then, thinking that I was still asleep, she slipped noiselessly from the room, and an instant later I heard a sharp creaking which could only come from the hinges of the front door. I sat up in bed and rapped my knuckles against the rail to make certain that I was truly awake. Then I took my watch from under the pillow. It was three in the morning. What on this earth could my wife be doing out on the country road at three in the morning?

Night running? Probably not. Stargazing? Moonbathing? Ancient rites and rituals? Dancing skyclad?

Probably not any of those things. I agree, it is a strange time to go a-wandering. And she is being super sneaky about it. This is another tick against the 'sus' box. Although I do suspect this is going to be something like her being blackmailed by her former husband who didn't actually die at all or something like that. Not that she doesn't have the right to go walking the country lanes at 3am. She can do whatever she wants. Bit weird though.

Was it usual to keep pocket watches under pillows? I used to keep books under my pillow when I was younger - and stuffed down the side of my bed. And hidden in my duvet cover. But that was because I stayed up too late reading and had to hide them quickly when I needed to pretend to be asleep. Did bedside tables not exist in the 1890s? Internet tells me they became popular in the Georgian period. Why not keep your watch beside your bed then. This is entirely unimportant, I'm just surprised that anyone would keep something like a pocket watch under their pillow. He must have a really good pillow.

"I had sat for about twenty minutes"

That's not very long. So it's either not an affair or her affair partner has some stamina issues. I jest, I jest. That wouldn't really be a Sherlock Holmes kind of mystery.

"Where had she been during that strange expedition? I felt that I should have no peace until I knew, and yet I shrank from asking her again after once she had told me what was false. All the rest of the night I tossed and tumbled, framing theory after theory, each more unlikely than the last."

Well, it's less than 10 minutes walk away, so that narrows down your answers somewhat. Probably the neighbour's house, given your narrative so far, Mr Munro.

“’Ah, Jack,’ she said, ‘I have just been in to see if I can be of any assistance to our new neighbors. Why do you look at me like that, Jack? You are not angry with me?’ “’So,’ said I, ‘this is where you went during the night.’"

I mean, yes. But also that's a perfectly good reason for her to be coming out of the cottage. Visiting neighbours, particularly in more rural areas, particularly during this time period, would have been entirely normal. Unless women still had to be introduced by their husbands/fathers at this point, but I don't think that was the case by the end of the Victorian era like it was in Austen. I get that she's being sus, but this is the least suspicious thing she's done. You're right, but your logic is faulty.

“’How can you tell me what you know is false?’ I cried. ‘Your very voice changes as you speak. When have I ever had a secret from you? I shall enter that cottage, and I shall probe the matter to the bottom.’ “’No, no, Jack, for God’s sake!’ she gasped, in uncontrollable emotion. Then, as I approached the door, she seized my sleeve and pulled me back with convulsive strength.

This is also an entirely reasonable reaction to your husband deciding to invade the new neighbours' house while angry.

Maybe it's her kid?

"'If you come home with me, all will be well. If you force your way into that cottage, all is over between us.’ [...] ’I will trust you on one condition, and on one condition only,’ said I at last. ‘It is that this mystery comes to an end from now. You are at liberty to preserve your secret, but you must promise me that there shall be no more nightly visits, no more doings which are kept from my knowledge. I am willing to forget those which are passed if you will promise that there shall be no more in the future.’

Oh dear, no one's coming out well from this. On the one hand, that's quite the ultimatum she's making. On the other hand... that's quite the ultimatum he's making.

So far nothing she's done has been particularly terrible. I mean... a twenty minute walk in the middle of the night isn't bad. Visiting the neighbours isn't bad. All he's got is suspicions that she's lying to him. Meanwhile, she's emotionally blackmailing him with their relationship. I know this is all going to turn out to be very dramatic, because it's a Holmes case, but at the same time, Mr Munro is definitely overreacting right here.

“On the third day, however, I had ample evidence that her solemn promise was not enough to hold her back from this secret influence which drew her away from her husband and her duty."

Oh no... you're being a dick, Mr Munro. The promise you made her give was completely unreasonable. There is literally no way she can tell you everything she plans to do and even if she could, that's a dick move. And now, based on one night time walk and visit next door you're claiming that her leaving the house is drawing her away from her duty? I believed in you, Mr Munro. She is being a bit weird, yes, but you're being controlling and for absolutely no good reason.

“My mind was instantly filled with suspicion. I rushed upstairs to make sure that she was not in the house."

These are not the actions of a rational human being. This is paranoia. If your wife thinks she needs to collude with the servants against you, then your marriage is nowhere near as happy as you seem to think.

"Tingling with anger, I rushed down and hurried across, determined to end the matter once and forever. I saw my wife and the maid hurrying back along the lane, but I did not stop to speak with them. In the cottage lay the secret which was casting a shadow over my life."

What fucking shadow? The only thing casting a shadow over your life right now is you. You have 0 evidence that your wife is doing anything wrong. And the more you talk, the more convinced I am that she could absolutely have needed to take a walk at 3am just to get away from you. I don't think that's going to be the solution to the mystery, but I wouldn't blame her at this point.

And you did so well with the money! Although I suppose we only have your word for any of that, so who knows what actually happened there.

If it turns out that her child didn't die of Yellow Fever at all, but was just left disfigured and/or disabled and now she's visiting them, it's not going to go well for you, my dude.

"I did not even knock when I reached it, but turned the handle and rushed into the passage."

Fucking rude.

That's how you get a poker to the head, btw.

"The furniture and pictures were of the most common and vulgar description, save in the one chamber at the window of which I had seen the strange face. That was comfortable and elegant, and all my suspicions rose into a fierce bitter flame when I saw that on the mantelpiece stood a copy of a full-length photograph of my wife, which had been taken at my request only three months ago."

Mr Monro is kind of a snob, huh? If I liked him more, I might suggest that he and Watson get together for judging sessions.

FINE the picture is weird and evidence of some sort of weird secret. Congratulations, by trespassing and being a controlling dick you have uncovered one (1) piece of evidence that your wife is embroiled in some sort of secret relationship. But I really do think it's going to be maternal.

"It is the first shadow that has come between us, and it has so shaken me that I do not know what I should do for the best."

Well you sure have handled it well so far. /sarcasm.

If this is the first problem in your marriage and your first instinct was to fly completely off the handle and barge into someone else's house and search it from top to bottom just because your wife *checks notes*... went for a short walk in the nighttime and... visited the neighbours? then you are not stable enough for marriage. Oh and she wanted some money a little while before this, but you specifically said that you'd all but forgotten about it (which I doubt since it was the first thing you brought up) and you didn't know if it had any bearing on anything else.

Again, I have only vague recollections of this one. The only thing I really remember is the face in the window, everything else is a blur.

Current theory: her child didn't die, but survived the yellow fever with serious lasting effects. She couldn't support them alone, so she set them up with someone to look after them and when she was properly settled down with a comfortable a life, a (supposedly) loving husband and enough money, she used that £10,000 to bring the child to her and settle them in the cottage across the way so they would be close to each other.

Why all of that would need to be such a secret, I don't know, however. There must be some scandal involved somehow. If we didn't already know she'd been married before, I would have said the child was born out of wedlock, but even if that were the case surely she could just say it was the child of her first husband anyway and in this time with no internet, no one would have been any the wiser?

[darksvster]

temptations high tonight — ➥ e, 6/6, 29785 words 23 years ago, Daemon was exiled from King's Landing after the birth of Viserys Targaryen's firstborn. Rhaenyra grows up groomed and shaped as the heir to Targaryen Dynamic Enterprises, one of the world's top weapons manufacturers and military tech firms. But when her father dies after losing her mother, Daemon returns to reclaim what was taken from him. Nothing goes to plan when he intrudes on a board meeting and catches the scent of his estranged niece. He should hate her — she is his rival. But her intoxicating scent seeps into his soul and he must wrangle with the fact that he's found his mate in the exact person who usurped him.

aka 

a modern a/b/o au where daemon and rhaenyra are mates but have been pitted against each other.

ao3 link

"Rhaenyra, Daemon still holds a large percentage of the shares of the company. He is just short of a board seat, but we believed that his experience with Bar-Vel and his own consulting agency would —"

"Spit it out, Harrold," she demands, interrupting the man in his explanation.

"You are still young, Rhaenyra," and it's Lyonel Strong who speaks, with his rotund belly and red face. "But with Daemon by your side, you two can make this company stronger than before."

What? Daemon shifts in his seat, leaning forward to get clarity before Rhaenyra beats him to the punch.

"I'm sorry, what? By my side? What does that mean, Lyonel?"

"Well, marriage has—"

But he can feel the wave of irritation roll off of Rhaenyra and now he's sure that everyone else can too because the people in the room shift in their seats uncomfortably. "I've been working here for the last four years, and two before that unofficially. This company is what I live and breathe. What need do I have for a man who hasn't even been in the country for years? A man my own father exiled." She rounds on him, "Do you even know the state of my company?"

"Our company," he corrects and enjoys the way her cheeks flush in anger at him. He takes distinct satisfaction in his advantage over her. "And I've been in this industry about as long as you've been alive. Are you sure you don't need a guiding hand?" His age and experience overshadow hers and the thought of his guiding hands on Rhaenyra cause another riotous upheaval inside of him. Her scent is so faint when she's this far away, but it's still there, like a virus in the back of his mind. It influences and pollutes his every thought.

She tilts her head up proudly, every inch the bratty, spoiled girl he suspects her to be. "Then stay with us as an advisor. I don't need a husband," she says crossly. He wants to roll his eyes again and tell her that, of course, she needs one. She needs a mate, right now she's a child in a room full of men. What will happen when she's in heat? God, the thought actually awakens his cock.

But Harrold speaks up again. "Rhaenyra, our stocks have plummeted since your father died. Investors have been calling and we have contract renewals coming up. A betrothal to Daemon could offer us some reprieve and reassurances to stakeholders."

She looks unconvinced, but the rest of the board is nodding in agreement. And that part of him is in agreement as well. Grasping and eager, it reaches out from within him, as if to crawl across the table to her so it can bury itself in her scent. Mine.

"I'll do it," he says, and the table turns to him in surprise. Rhaenyra almost looks betrayed. "But, it must be a long engagement. You can float rumors to bring up stock prices but no public announcements." He gestures to Rhaenyra, trying to seem unaffected. "I barely know this girl, and I don't know what's happening with this company. Remember, you called me. I can just as easily go back to Bar-Vel or Dark Sister." He tells himself he's keeping his friends close and his enemies closer.

"Then go back, Daemon," Otto snidely retorts. "Rhaenyra is capable of handling this on her own." Ambitious and oily Otto Hightower. It seems now that Viserys is gone, he can sink his teeth into Rhaenyra. Once a leech, always a leech.

There's a moment of silence as he waits for Rheanyra's decision, she seems unaffected by Otto's flattery. Finally, she turns to a third man in the room, an old man with rheumatic eyes and a quavering voice. "Beesbury, what do you think?"

Beesbury is a relic, he was old when Daemon was still the heir to the company, and he was ancient now. The old man looks at Daemon and he feels like he's being examined from the inside out. "Your father treasured this company, and he wanted you as his heir, this is true. But with Daemon at your side, you could become even more powerful than Viserys." Sighing, he strokes his chin in contemplation. "It's worth the consideration, to continue the legacy of your family, which I know is important to you."

He can read the conflict painted on her face, she wants an opposing point of view but none exists in the room. She's being cornered and she doesn't like it. But finally, flipping her hair over her shoulder, she nods curtly. She's trying so hard to look gracious in defeat. "A long engagement," she tells the table, before looking straight at him. "And I will break it if I need to."

[alyssaallyrion]

Title: standing still in kaleidoscope

Rating: T

Ship: Neji/Hinata

Notes: Originally written for Hyuga Clan week, but life & covid got in the way, so editing took forever

ao3 link

*** Neji is four years old when he meets Hinata for the first time. She’s a tiny, delicate thing, hiding her face shyly in the sleeve of her father’s yukata.

“Meet your cousin Hinata, Neji,” his father says, “She’s your uncle Hiashi’s daughter.”

Hinata, still clutching her father’s sleeve, slowly lifts her head. Bright pink blush dusts her cheeks when their eyes finally meet, and Neji’s breath hitches in his throat.

“She’s so cute, father,” he murmurs, an unbidden warmth rising in his face.

“Don’t be shy,” Hiashi says, lightly nudging Hinata ahead, “You need to greet your cousin.”

Her steps are soft, almost unsure when she walks forward, but her back is straighter than the angle of a kunai as she bows to him.

“Good evening, Neji-onii-sama. I am happy to meet you,” she says.

She looks up at him and smiles bashfully, and, suddenly, Neji’s heart is racing, and it is as if the world spins around him. And though he doesn’t understand the feeling blooming in his chest, he cannot stop himself from smiling back at her.

“I am happy to meet you too, Hinata-san.”

*** Even at a young age, Neji knows he is special. His father proudly notes that Neji has the purest Byakugan in centuries and orders him to train tirelessly to make it even stronger. Clan techniques come easy to Neji – so much so that even his instructor, an old, dour man who had trained two generations of the Hyuga heirs and who, thus, was nigh impossible to impress, cannot stop praising him.

“He could be a shinobi within the year,” the instructor tells Hizashi after one of their training sessions, “If the Academy has kept to the old ways.”

Hizashi looks at Neji then and nods as a rare – and for that, all the more precious – smile spreads across his lips. Pride swells in Neji’s chest as he tries – and fails – to hide his own pleased smile. He lives to make his father proud.

*** One morning, he sees Hinata on the terrace overlooking the training yard, perched against a tall wooden pillar supporting the roof. Never the one to slack off during practice, Neji puts his all into the fight that day – and then some. His instructor is openly delighted, commending his quick mastery of the Vaccum Palm, and Neji knows he should be proud. Yet, somehow his instructor’s praise seems almost unimportant as soon as Hinata approaches him.

“That was amazing, Neji-onii-sama,” she says, smiling bashfully, “You are so strong.”

Her eyes are wide and full of wonder, and she’s looking at him as though he’s truly something special, and Neji’s heart flutters as pride swells in his chest, spreading through his body. His hands ache from exertion, and his knuckles may well bruise in the morning – but all that matters is that she’s smiling at him, soft and light.

“I…I could teach you if you want,” Neji offers hastily, realizing he’s been staring too long.

“Thank you, Neji-onii-sama,” Hinata replies,” But I have only started my Gentle fist training, so I am hardly a capable student.”  

“I see,” Neji says.

“But if you’ll allow it, I would love to come to see you train,” Hinata adds, blushing ever so slightly as she smiles at him, “Because I’ve never seen anything quite like it!”

It is then that Neji learns he cannot bring himself to refuse her.

*** True to her word, Hinata comes to watch him train every day – until one crisp winter morning, Neji notices her usual perch on the terrace is empty. He is distracted, stealing glances at the terrace at every opportunity, but to no avail - she never comes.

After training, Neji hardly has the patience to wait for his instructor to finish his critique. As soon as the old man is done, Neji rushes into the house and tracks down Hinata’s nursemaid.

“Hinata-san is receiving her seal today,” the woman explains to Neji, “She will have to rest a few days but do not worry, Neji-sama, you will see her before the week’s end.”

Neji freezes, color draining from his face. Hinata was a member of the branch family, yet, somehow, it never consciously occurred to Neji that one day she too would receive the Caged Bird seal. He had only seen the seal in action once, and the memory still churned his stomach. The thought of Hinata – his sweet, delicate Hinata – getting hurt like that makes Neji sick.

He cannot wait days to see her – he needs to know she is alright. Once the night falls, Neji slips out of his chambers and steals through the dimly lit halls of the compound to Hinata’s room. Outside her door, Neji glances around cautiously before stepping inside.

Hinata’s lying on her bed, seemingly asleep. Neji notices wrappings on her forehead, and when white moonlight streaming into the room through the uncurtained window touches her face, his heart clenches with worry. Her face is bloodless, paler than the pure white of her bandages – paler than the morning frost – and no person so ever be so.

He takes a soft step towards her and then another, and, suddenly, Hinata stirs in bed. Before Neji has a chance to think, she opens her eyes.

“Neji-onii-sama,” she murmurs, confused, her voice a little faint, “Is this a dream?”

“I’ve come to check on you,” Neji explains, shifting from foot to foot, unsure if he should approach her, “Your nursemaid had told me about the ceremony. Are you hurt?”

“I...I don’t remember,” Hinata frowns lightly, “I think I have fainted.” She looks at Neji and smiles softly at him, “But I am better now. Thank you for checking on me, Neji-onii-sama.”

“Thank goodness,” Neji responds, watching her carefully, “I was worried for you.”

Wrapped in her lavender coverlet, pale and exhausted, Hinata looks so small, so precious, and so vulnerable, and, at that moment, there is nothing Neji wants more than to protect her.

“I’m sorry I missed your training earlier,” Hinata says, pulling her coverlet closer about her, “Had I known earlier that I would receive the seal today, I would have warned you. But I promise I will be there in the morning.”

“You should rest,” Neji protests, “That can wait until you recover.”

“But I want to see you,” Hinata pouts, looking at him through her eyelashes, and, yet again, Neji finds himself unable to refuse her.

*** She’s back at her usual spot on the terrace every morning, and everything slowly falls back into place. If the mark on her forehead causes her any discomfort, Hinata never shows it, and Neji’s equal parts are relieved and worried, hoping that she isn’t hiding her pain to avoid worrying him.

They’ve taken to drinking tea on the terrace after his training sessions, and Neji finds himself looking forward to it every day.

“Here, Neji-onii-sama,” Hinata says, offering him a cup.

As he accepts the tea, his fingers brush against her ever so slightly, and his heart flutters as warmth rises in his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Neji says, quickly bringing the cup to his mouth in an attempt to hide his unbidden blush.

With a nod, Hinata picks up her cup from the tray. Neji watches as she holds it with both hands, staring blankly at the smooth surface of the tea, not taking a single sip. She’s still for a long moment, and Neji knows her well enough to tell that something’s bothering Hinata.

“My father had spoken to me earlier today about the role of the main and branch families,” she says, finally looking at Neji, “And I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Neji frowns, confused, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“He told me it’s the main family’s duty to lead and the branch family’s duty to protect. But how can I protect you, Neji-onii-sama?” Hinata continues, tears welling in her eyes, as she clenches her cup till her fingertips turn white, “You are so strong, and I am so weak. So I must apologize for being so useless!”

And then she’s bowing to him, her forehead pressed against the smooth boards of the terrace floor. Anger bristles in Neji’s chest, bright and sharp, and he almost tosses away his cup. Reaching forward, he firmly grips Hinata’s shoulders and lifts her in one swift motion.

“Never say that,” he says, his voice trembling with rage. Scared by his anger, Hinata tries to recoil, but his fingers dig tight into her upper arms.

“You are not useless,” he continues, his eyes finding Hinata’s, “And if you are weak now, I will train with you to make you stronger.”

“But Neji-onii-sama...” Hinata protests meekly, but Neji cuts her off.

“If you do as I say, one day you will be strong enough to protect anyone – even me,” Neji says forcefully, “Until that day, however, I will be the one protecting you.”

Hinata blinks at him slowly, wide-eyed and confused. “But what about the tradition? You can’t be protecting me...”

“All the more reason for you to get stronger faster,” Neji replies.

Hinata’s silent for a long moment as she looks at Neji. Then, slowly, a timid smile blooms on her lips. “Alright,” she says, “I’ll do my best to not disappoint you, onii-sama.”

*** They bury Hinata’s father on a cold winter morning.

Neji watches, helpless, as, standing by Hiashi’s open grave, Hinata clutches her nursemaid’s hand, endless tears streaming down her cheeks. Neji wants to console her, but his chest is tight with guilt – he had heard the hushed whispers floating around the compound.

As they lower Hiashi’s body into the grave, Hinata wipes her tears with his kimono sleeve. She leans forward, picks up a handful of frozen dirt, and tosses it on the coffin. She’s still, almost frozen in place as her father’s grave is filled with soil, but once the undertakers are finished, she runs.

And Neji cannot leave her alone, not like this – so he follows. He finds her in the small garden by the river – her favorite place in the compound - sitting on the ground by a large, barren oak tree, her knees pulled close to her chest, her face hidden in her hands. Her whole body shudders from her quiet sobs, and Neji’s heart breaks at the sight.

“Hinata,” Neji calls out softly as he slowly approaches her.

When she doesn’t respond, Neji walks up and crouches down in front of her.

“First mother died, and now father’s dead too...” Hinata stutters, her voice trembling with tears, “And I am all alone. What will I do?”

“You are not alone,” Neji says ardently.

Hinata doesn’t respond, only pulls her knees in closer when another heart-shattering sob wrecks her body, and Neji cannot bear it. Reaching over, he pulls gently yet firmly at Hinata’s hands, moving them away from her face, forcing her to look at him. Her wide, scared eyes are full of tears, her face is red from cold and rubbing, and Neji wants nothing more than to pull her close, to comfort her, but he doesn’t dare.

Instead, he repeats, “You are not alone – you have me.” Hinata blinks at him, confused, and Neji adds, “And I will never leave your side.”

For what feels like an eternity, Hinata looks him in the face without saying a word, as if searching for some answer only she knows, and Neji’s heart races in his chest – he desperately wants her to believe him.

“Promise?” she murmurs faintly.

“I swear,” Neji replies ardently, lightly squeezing her small, soft hands in his.

“I trust you, onii-sama,” Hinata nods, and Neji’s heart is in his throat. Having Hinata’s trust is a delicate and precious gift, and Neji would gladly give up his life to preserve it.

*** Neji and Hinata grow inseparable. They train together almost every morning and often drink tea on the terrace afterward. Neji enjoys meditating and always invites Hinata along, finding her quiet presence calming. In turn, Hinata frequently brings him to a little garden she cares for, and Neji tries his best to help out where he can.

On a starry spring evening, when they are sitting on a terrace together, drinking tea, Neji confides in Hinata that his father had hardly spoken a dozen words to him since the funeral.

“Hizashi-sama is grieving deeply,” Hinata comforts Neji, lightly putting her hand on top of his, “You should give it time.”

Neji stifles a sigh and nods. For weeks he’s been feeling that something had shifted imperceptibly in the way his father looked at him after his uncle’s death, but Neji cannot put the feeling into words. Sometimes, he wondered if it was just his imagination - after all, his father had always been rather withdrawn. Shaking his head, Neji chases away the thoughts.

“I suppose so,” Neji says before rising to his feet. Once standing, he reaches down to Hinata, grasps her forearm, and heaves her up, “We should get back to training.”

*** Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, and, yet, the invisible rift between Neji and his father never disappears. Ever obstinate and proud, Neji resolves that if he cannot win his father’s love back, he will at least have his respect by becoming the strongest member of the Hyuga clan. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but Neji refuses to dwell upon it, instead throwing himself into training with renewed ardor.

The academy exams feel like a child’s play compared to his grueling training regiment.

“I’ve spoken to the academy teachers, and while they all recognize that you are more than ready to become a shinobi, the Hokage had strictly forbidden anyone under the age of ten from graduating,” his instructor sighs when the results of entrance exams are released, “Fast-tracked graduations saved the village during the third war, but, it seems they are too good for it now.”

Listening to his instructor’s grumble, Neji only shrugs – if he must attend the academy, he will do just that.

Later that evening, Neji finds Hinata on the terrace, waiting for him with a small tray carrying a teapot and two cups by her side. When Hinata sees him, she smiles bright and unabashed.  

“Neji-onii-sama, congratulations!” she exclaims.

The way she looks at him makes Neji’s chest swell with pride as warmth rises in his cheeks, yet he doesn’t want to show it.

“Thank you,” he replies, approaching Hinata, “But the exam was very easy.”

“Everything is easy for you, onii-sama,” Hinata laughs, offering him a cup of tea, “Could it be any other way? After all, you are the strongest, most amazing person I know!”

Neji almost chokes on his tea as unbidden blush spills across his face. He had gotten used to being praised by others over the years, of course – yet, somehow, any time Hinata complimented him, it felt special.

“I have something for you,” Hinata continues, handing over a small parcel wrapped in soft fabric. When Neji opens it, he sees two shiny new kunai.

“I went to the weapons shop earlier, and when I saw them, I thought of you...” Hinata stutters, pink blush dusting her cheeks, “I know that our clan techniques make weapons unnecessary, but I heard they can be useful at the academy. I hope you like them, onii-sama.”

“I do,” Neji assures Hinata, and her blush deepens, “Thank you, Hinata-san. I’ll always keep them with me.”

*** No one is surprised when Neji graduates at the top of his class. Once a genin, he ends up on Maito Gai’s team. While the eccentricity of his sensei – and one of his teammates – often grates on Neji’s nerves, he’s secretly delighted as his sensei is one of the most well-regarded shinobi in the village.

The rift between Neji and his father grows wider every year, but Neji forbids himself from dwelling upon it, laser-focused on his goal to become the strongest Hyuga.

Hinata graduates from the academy the year after Neji, also with top marks. While training with him had undoubtedly made her strong, Neji thinks she doesn’t have the disposition for shinobi life. Still, as a branch house member, she has little choice in the matter.

To her credit, Hinata takes her circumstances in stride.

“Of course, I want to be a shinobi,” she tells Neji when he asks her once, “You are going to be a shinobi one day, Neji-onii-sama, and you are the most special person I know – of course, I want to be just like you.”

The memory of that conversation brings a blush to Neji’s face even years later. He’s never been easily flustered, yet something about Hinata always sent his heart racing and brought color to his face. Neji assures himself that it’s only because she’s important to him as a member of his family and tries his best to avoid dwelling upon it.

She’s my cousin – it’s only natural to feel protective over her, Neji thinks, attempting to justify his decision to confront Inuzuka and Aburame upon learning that they were assigned to Hinata’s team. After all, how else could he ensure they know to behave around her?

“What do you mean behave?” Kiba bristles instantly at Neji’s words, “Who do you think we are, some kind of monsters that would hurt Hinata for fun?”

“You should forgive him, Kiba,” Shino says, placing his hand firmly on Kiba’s shoulder, then turning to Neji. Dark glasses hide his eyes, making his expression unreadable, “Why? Because I don’t think he’s meant to offend us. He’s only here because he loves Hinata and cares for her well-being.”

The words catch Neji off-guard, knocking the air out of his lungs as a kaleidoscope of memories rushes through his mind. Could it be that he...?

No, of course not. What a folly... He only loves her like family – no more, no less. 

“Just treat her with kindness,” Neji says, looking first at Shino, then at Kiba, “And we will not have a problem.”

Neji tries his best to put the conversation out of his mind, to forget what Shino said. After all, what can he possibly understand? The boy knows all there’s to know about bugs – and nothing about people. And yet, for months, any time Neji looks upon Hinata, Shino’s words haunt him.

*** Neji is fourteen when he becomes a chunin – and only a day older when he finds out he’s been promoted to jonin. His father is openly delighted and offers Neji a rare, content smile when he announces that Neji should have a seat on the clan council from that day forward.

“It is a great honor to be offered a seat on the council at such a young age,” one of his father’s companions says.

Neji bows and offers words of gratitude, but his heart remains cold – though he had seemingly earned his father’s respect, the distance between them remained as vast as ever.

Later that night, Gai-sensei takes his team to dinner to celebrate Neji’s promotion, and Neji invites Hinata along. They run late, and by the time Neji and Hinata arrive at Yakiniku Q, Neji’s teammates are already there. Lee and Tenten took the left side of the booth, leaving the right one to Neji and Hinata while Gai-sensei sat at the head of the table.

“Finally, the man of the hour is here,” Gai-sensei smiles brightly as Neji and Hinata approach the group.

The booths at Yakiniku Q are notoriously small, and when Neji and Hinata settle in, her left side ends up pressed tightly against his right. Hinata feels soft and warm against him, and, sitting so close, Neji can smell the faint lavender of her shampoo, and his heart races.

“I’m so sorry, Neji-onii-sama,” Hinata murmurs, blushing lightly, “But there is nowhere to move. If you prefer, I could get a chair...”

“No, it’s alright,” Neji replies, trying to sound even toned as his heart flutters in his chest.

The evening passes in a flurry of laughter, lively conversation, and congratulatory toasts.

“I am so proud of you,” Neji, Gai-sensei says, raising his drink. He’s deep in his cups, and youthful tears stream freely down his cheeks, “Only my eternal rival had become a jonin at a younger age. I know you will go on to accomplish great things.”

“Thank you, Gai-sensei,” Neji replies, utterly distracted by the soft press of Hinata’s thigh against his leg.

After dinner, Neji and Hinata walk back to the compound. The summer evening is delightfully warm, with a soft flowery scent filling the air, and they decide to take a longer route home across the Naka river. On a small wooden bridge not too far from the compound, Hinata asks Neji to stop.

“It’s such a beautiful sunset today, onii-sama,” she says, smiling lightly at Neji, “It would be a shame to miss it.”

Neji nods, smiling back at her – he still could never bring himself to refuse Hinata. She leans against the bridge railing, resting her chin on her palm, and Neji follows suit. Hinata looks wistfully at the setting sun, but Neji cannot stop looking at her. She looks so beautiful in the soft glow of the dying light that his breath catches in his throat, and his mouth feels dry.

“You know,” Hinata says, still looking at the sun and smiling softly, “I always knew you were destined for great things. You really are something special, Neji-onii-sama.”

Warmth rises in his face, spilling bright blush across his cheeks, and Neji’s grateful that she’s so taken by the sunset.

“There is something I want you to have,” Hinata continues, turning to him. With one swift motion, she unclasps the small silver pendant she’s wearing and offers it to Neji, “This was my mother’s, and I have been told that she had given it to me for protection. Now I want it to guard you.”

Neji looks at the pendant in her outstretched palm and reaches forward, gently closing Hinata’s hand with his fingers.

“I cannot accept,” he says, looking her in the eyes, “It is your keepsake from your mother.”

“It was hers, but it is mine to give now,” Hinata protests, then adds, in a soft pleading tone, “Please, onii-sama. My heart will not rest unless I know it’s with you, keeping you safe on all those dangerous missions.”

Hinata glances at him through her eyelashes, and Neji feels his resolve crumble – he’s very strong, but still only a man.

“Very well,” he says, “If that is your wish.”

Hinata smiles her rich little rosebud smile, and Neji cannot help but smile back. He lets go of her hand, and Hinata reaches forward, placing the pendant around Neji’s neck. The soft brush of Hinata’s skin against his sends shivers down Neji’s spine, and when he looks at her, his heart is in his throat. As she fumbles with the clasp, her face is only inches away from his. His gaze drops to her lips – if he leans just a little he could...

No, he cannot even think about it.

“There, Neji-onii-sama,” Hinata murmurs, moving her hands away, “All done. Now I will know you’ll always come back.”

To Neji’s surprise, she doesn’t step back – instead, she remains still, looking him straight in the face. She’s so close that he can smell the strawberry juice she drank at dinner on her breath, and Neji finds this closeness utterly intoxicating. His heartbeat thunders in his ears as he leans forward ever so slightly to see if she will pull away, but she doesn’t.

“Neji-onii-sama...” she murmurs softly, looking at him through her eyelashes as bright blush dusts her cheeks.

He doesn’t respond, only leans in closer. Her warm breath ghosts his lips, making his head spin.

“Neji-sama, Hinata-san,” Natsu’s voice catches him off guard, “There you two are. We’ve been looking for you everywhere at the compound. Now hurry, before your father becomes cross with me.”

Hinata’s cheeks are deep crimson when she takes a step back, and she isn’t looking at him, and Neji wonders if he had, perhaps, misunderstood and overstepped his bounds. But, as they walk back to the compound side by side, the back of Hinata’s hand brushes ever so slightly against his, and Neji cannot stop smiling.

*** At fifteen, Hinata has blossomed into a true beauty – and Neji isn’t the only one who noticed. Neji sees how Kou stares at Hinata when she isn’t looking and how he goes out of his way to seek out her company. She is too sweet, too friendly to refuse him, and oftentimes Kou ends up accompanying Hinata around the compound as she does her errands. Seeing Kou near Hinata fills Neji’s heart with sharp, burning jealousy and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Neji knows he has no right to feel the way he does – and yet he cannot still his heart.

One day after a mission, Neji comes to visit Hinata in her garden, only to see Kou there, sitting on a small bench under the oak tree. Hinata, who is watering sunflowers, notices Neji first.

“Neji-onii-sama,” she smiles bright and airy, “You are back!”

Kou’s face drops for a moment before he regains his composure. “Welcome back, Neji-sama,” he greets Neji, and there’s the slightest hint of tension in his voice.

It must be Neji’s lucky day, however, because as soon as he steps through the garden’s gates, Natsu appears right behind him to fetch Kou to help train the younger kids.

“He’s quite persistent, isn’t he?” Neji remarks once Kou and Natsu leave.

“Kou-san is just very friendly and has been kind enough to keep me company,” Hinata says, setting down the watering can and wiping off her forehead with the back of her hand, “Although – and please don’t tell him that because it would be quite mean – I still haven’t found a way to tell him politely that sometimes I like to garden without observers. Like today, for example.”

“If you’d like, I can come see you later,” Neji offers, his heart twinging. Ever since he left on his mission five days ago, he’d dreamed of seeing Hinata again, but if she wanted some alone time, he would never try and impose his company.

“Huh? Why would...” Hinata frowns, walking up to Neji. Her eyes widen as realization slowly dawns upon her face, “Ah, Neji-onii-sama, I didn’t mean it that way!”

“It’s alright,” Neji says, “I understand.”

“But you don’t,” Hinata says, stopping right before him. Neji raises an eyebrow, confused, watching as she bites her lower lip as if hesitating before looking up and meeting his eyes. “You see, Neji-onii-sama,” she says, shifting from foot to foot, “The truth is, I treasure our time together with all my heart, and I would never ask you.”

There is ardor behind her words, and Neji’s heart races as warmth spills through his veins when she looks at him with open, earnest eyes.

“Good,” he says as evenly as he can muster, fighting the blush rising in his cheeks, “Because I’m not planning to leave – not until I’ve helped you with all those flowers, at least.”

“Thank you, onii-sama,” Hinata smiles, radiant and sweet, and Neji knows he’s made the right decision.

*** It dawns fair and clear on the day Neji’s peace is torn asunder. After an early morning meeting, his father announces Hinata’s betrothal to Kou, with the wedding date set for her seventeenth birthday.

Kou is openly delighted, accepting congratulations with a pleased smile, and Neji feels sick. He wants to leave the council chamber to find Hinata and talk to her – he knows she’d never agree to this union. He cannot go, however, not before offering customary congratulations to Kou, and Neji grits his teeth and steels his heart.

“Congratulations,” Neji says, the word bitter and burning on his tongue.

“Thank you, Neji-sama,” Kou replies, “Your support of our union means a lot.”

His smug expression is almost more than Neji can bear. Anger, bright and bristling, rises in Neji’s chest, threatening to spill out of his mouth through cruel words he will, no doubt, regret. Instead, he turns around and walks out of the meeting chamber without saying another word. He’s halfway down the hall when, suddenly, he hears his father’s voice behind him.

“Neji, there’s something we need to speak about.”

*** “I’ve seen the way you look at her,” his father says, closing his study door behind them.

It’s been years since Neji had last seen his father’s office, yet, surprisingly, the room appears the same as he remembers, as though time didn’t exist here. His gaze travels, unbidden, to the small shelf above the fireplace, and he sees it – the picture of him and Hinata and their fathers, all smiling brightly, taken on Hinata’s fourth birthday. Just a few weeks before Hinata’s father died.

“I’m not sure I follow, father,” Neji replies, even-toned.

His father looks at Neji bemused, “Do you consider me a fool or a blind man?”

Neji says nothing. Hizashi walks over to his desk and takes a seat, gesturing for Neji to sit down across from him. Neji stifles a sigh – he can tell that the conversation will be long. Still, he does as he is told.

“No matter your answer,” his father says once Neji’s seated, “I’ve brought you here with one purpose – to tell you that you need to put this folly out of your mind. Hinata may be of the branch house, but she’s still my brother’s daughter, and I will not permit you to toy with her.”

“Toy with her?” Neji echoes, dumbfounded.

“Call it what you will,” Hizashi says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “But the intention is the same. The elders will never approve of this union, and you will only ruin her for marriage.”

White-hot anger blooms in Neji’s chest, clawing at his throat. Ruin her for marriage?

“You are mistaken about the nature of our relationship, father,” Neji’s voice almost trembles with anger as he speaks.

“Am I? I was young once, too, you know,” Hizashi interrupts, staring Neji straight in the face, “Kou marrying Hinata would be better for everyone – and I forbid you from even thinking of interfering in this betrothal.”

Bitter smile tugs at Neji’s lips, “And the elders say Kou is free to marry Hinata, even though he is of the main family?”

“But he is not the heir!” Hizashi replies forcefully, anger spilling across his features, “The rules are different for you. You are the future leader – and you must do your duty.”

“And what does duty to the clan demand in these circumstances?” Neji’s voice drips with poison as he holds his father’s gaze.

“To let this marriage go through,” Hizashi says calmer, having regained some of his composure, “To accept your own, suitable match from the main family that I will choose for you when the time comes.”

“And if I have no desire for such a match?” Neji bristles instantly, feeling nauseous from his father’s mere suggestion.

Hizashi sighs and presses his fingers against his temples before looking back at Neji. “I do not see what you stand to gain by being so obstinate. Before the year’s end, Hinata will be Kou’s wife. Do you intend to spend the rest of your days grieving some childish fantasy?”

“And Hinata,” Neji interrupts, ignoring his father’s question, “Did you bother to ask if she wants this marriage?”

“Hinata has been informed and will do her duty,” his father says intently, “As will you.”

Blood pounds in Neji’s ears, and his throat feels dry when he looks Hizashi in the face. Anger, hot and bright, spills into his veins, burning him from the inside. How easy it must be to talk of duty for a man who has never cared for anyone, not even his own son. No, he will not listen to his father anymore.

Before Neji can get up from his seat, Hizashi speaks again.

“Do not think I have no compassion for your circumstances,” Hizashi says slowly.

“If you do, father, you must forgive me, for I haven’t noticed,” Neji replies bitterly.

Suddenly, a soft, chagrinned smile appears on Hizashi’s face. “You still have so much to understand,” he shakes his head before looking Neji in the eye again, “Do you really think you were the first heir to the main family to fall in love with a branch family member?”

The revelation stuns Neji.

“And what happened then?” he asks flatly.

“What always happens in our family,” his father replies, looking away. He’s silent for a long moment before turning back to Neji, “Everyone did their duty.”

But Neji is done with duty. Without saying another word to Hizashi, he gets up from his seat and storms out of the study to find Hinata.

*** He finds Hinata in the garden, tending to a flowerbed of white lilies. Her hands are buried in dirt as she prunes and pulls the weeds surrounding the flowers. Her face is exhausted and pale, but the red splotches on her cheeks betray that she’d been crying, and Neji’s heart clenches.

“Hinata-san,” Neji calls out softly, walking through the garden gates. She freezes as though startled by his voice and quickly raises to her feet.

“Neji-onii-sama,” she says, turning to him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you approach.”

“It’s alright,” Neji replies, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

He stands in front of Hinata and looks her in the face, searching desperately for the right words but doesn’t find them.

“You don’t want to marry Kou, do you?” he says instead, as blunt as ever.

Hinata doesn’t meet his gaze, not at first, but when she finally looks at him, Neji’s heart sinks. Her expression is still, her gaze – resigned, and nothing in her face betrays any emotion.

“My feelings have no bearing on my marriage,” she says, even-toned and quiet, “And thus hardly matter.”

“They matter to me,” Neji protests ardently, stepping forward and taking Hinata’s hands into his.

Hinata’s eyes widen in surprise and the slightest tinge of pink blooms upon her cheeks.

“Thank you, onii-sama,” she says softly, but her voice quivers, “I’ve always been grateful for how much you care about me and my happiness. But, I’m afraid, in this case, there is nothing to be done.”

Hinata’s words claw at his very soul, and Neji’s heart is in his throat.

“So then,” Neji murmurs, his voice hoarse, “You intend to go through with this marriage?”

“It is my duty to obey the orders of the main family,” Hinata says lightly, “If Hizashi-sama and the elders have determined that this union will benefit the clan, who am I to question their will?”

Neji’s heart sinks as a cold, heavy feeling spills through his veins. Noticing the shift in his demeanor, Hinata gently squeezes his hand.

“I truly wish it wasn’t so,” she says, smiling softly and sadly.

She looks so lost, so delicate, and so vulnerable, and Neji’s heart shatters at the sight. He cups her hand with both of his, sweeping his thumb across her palm. Her nails are broken and dirty from the yard work, and her hand seems very small and soft against his. There is so much Neji wishes he could tell her – if only he had the right words.

And, instead of everything that cannot be said between them, Neji leans in and kisses her fingers, hoping and praying that she will understand – it is an act of despair.

*** It’s been two moon’s turns since Neji last spent the night in the compound. The knowledge of Hinata’s upcoming wedding is enough to endure already without having to witness the preparations, and Neji accepts any dangerous mission that would keep him away from the village.

“You should take care of yourself,” Tenten scolds him when Neji almost runs out of chakra from using Byakugan too many hours in a row, “Have you considered what would happen if you get burned out and lose focus during a mission?”

Tenten’s right, of course, as she usually is about these things – a week later, on a mission to the Land of Iron, Neji gets careless. Next thing he knows, a kunai’s driven up to the hilt between his third and fourth ribs. Despite his teammate’s efforts to keep pressure on the wound, blood seeps through their fingers, and slowly, Neji’s consciousness dims. As he slips into oblivion, Neji’s haunted only by Hinata’s face.

*** When Neji comes to his sense, he’s in his room at the Hyuga compound. Hinata’s sitting by his bedside, her worried eyes trained upon Neji’s face. She looks pale, and deep shadow pool under her eyes, betraying that she hasn’t slept in days.  

“Neji-onii-sama,” she murmurs, sighing with relief, “Thank goodness you are finally awake. I was so worried.”

“How...how did I get here?” Neji asks, sitting up on the bed.

“The backup team managed to get you just in time,” Hinata explains, “Tenten said had the medic-nin been just a few minutes late, then...”

Hinata’s voice trails off as she glances to the side and bites her lip. Her small hands are clutched tightly in her lap, and Neji’s heart clenches.

“There is no need to worry over that,” he murmurs softly, leaning in, gently putting his hand atop Hinata’s forearm, “I’m here now.”

Hinata nods, a small, timid smile blooming on her lips. “I knew you’d come back,” she whispers, “You’ve never broken your promise.”

Neji’s hand slides down her forearm, resting atop Hinata’s folded hands. She looks at him with wide, wondering eyes and doesn’t pull away. They are so close, closer than they have been in months, and unbidden warmth spills through Neji’s veins as his heart races.

Looking at Hinata, he wonders how he’d ever stayed away from her so long when everything in him was so desperate, so eager to be by her side. He knows she’d been promised to another, yet he cannot help himself as longing twists in his chest, urging him to lean in.

“Hinata...” he breathes out hoarsely, her name a plea on his lips – a warning.

Hinata’s still watching Neji, mesmerized, through her eyelashes as he shifts closer. His flutters in his chest, and his head spins when Hinata’s soft breath ghosts his lips. He’s about to close the distance between them when, suddenly, Hinata blinks, and something shifts in her expression. The next thing Neji knows, she’s pulling away, a bright crimson flush burning on her cheeks.

“I...I’m sorry, Neji-onii-sama,” she stutters, not meeting his gaze, “You must be exhausted. I should let you rest.”

Neji’s heart drops as a cold feeling rises in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. What was he thinking? Hinata was promised to another, and even if she weren’t... Even if she weren’t, who is to say she ever shared Neji’s feelings.

A bitter feeling uncoils in Neji’s chest. Had he been deluding himself, thinking that one day she may come to see him the way he saw her?

“It’s alright,” Neji says, even-toned, his own words scratching at his very soul, “I will rest now. Thank you for checking on me, Hinata-san.”

Hinata nods but doesn’t meet his gaze. She shifts on the chair as if to get up, yet, to Neji’s surprise, remains seated. Time stretches around them as Hinata remains still, almost frozen in place. Perplexed, Neji notices that she’s clenching her fists, her knuckles white from her grip, her short nails leaving half-moon imprints on her palms.

“Hinata-san, is everything alright?” Neji asks. Though his heart aches, he cannot help but worry for her.

“You know, Neji-onii-sama,” Hinata says, still looking down at her hands, “When they brought you here, injured and unconscious, I made a promise to myself. I promised that when you wake up, I will tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” Neji echoes.

Hinata raises her head and looks Neji in the face. Her eyes are full of bright, unwavering resolve, and, suddenly, Neji’s breath catches in his throat.

“Yes,” she nods, “I promised myself to tell you that you were right. That, even though Kou is a good and kind man, I do not wish to marry him.”

Neji’s eyes widen in surprise as he looks at Hinata. Though he had been certain she didn’t want to marry Kou, he never expected her to openly admit it.

“But that’s not the whole truth,” Hinata continues as a soft, sad smile blooms on her lips, “And I wanted to keep it to myself because I am promised to another, because you are the heir to the main family, and I do not wish to complicate your life. But when they brought you here...I realized I could no longer keep this secret in my heart. I hope you can forgive me for being so selfish.”

“What are you saying?” Neji asks, his voice barely a whisper as his heart thunders in his ears.

“That I love you, Neji-sama.”

Neji doesn’t remember leaning in – only the moment his lips found Hinata’s, and when he kisses her, he loses time. She’s delightfully, intoxicatingly soft and warm against him, making Neji’s head spin and his heart flutter. Hinata sighs softly against his lips when he pulls her close, and, suddenly, the very axis of Neji’s world has shifted imperceptibly.

When they pull apart, bright blush burns on Hinata’s cheeks, and Neji cannot hide a content smile, despite the heat rising in his own face.

“Neji-sama,” she stutters, “I...”

“I love you too,” he interrupts Hinata, “Ever since I first saw you.”

She looks at him with wide, incredulous eyes, and Neji never thought she could turn ever more flushed. Smiling softly, he takes her hands in his, brushing the back of her left hand gently with his thumb. For a long moment, they are quiet, reveling in their closeness.

With a soft sigh, Hinata finally pulls away.

“We cannot do this again,” she says, with a small, sad smile, “Even though I love you, I am still promised to another.”

Neji chuckles - as if he’d let anyone else have her now that he knew he was the one who had her heart.

“You will not marry Kou – you have my word on that,” Neji says, lifting Hinata’s chin with his hand, making her meet his gaze, “I will speak with father as soon as he returns to the village and the wedding will be off.”

Hinata nods, content, and Neji pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. As she rests her head on his chest, Hinata murmurs, “I trust you, Neji-sama.”

*** On the day his father returns to the village, war comes to Konoha. In the war, they see many things – more than any person should ever have to see. For three days, they are wrapped in the chill of the grave, followed by the screams of the dying and the whispers of the dead.

*** The war is bitter beyond imagining – living in the aftermath is harder.

Hizashi Hyuga laid down his life for his homeland in the Fourth War, and at eighteen years old, Neji finds himself the youngest head of the Hyuga clan, with all the power – and responsibilities that come with it.

“I will talk to Kou and inform him that the betrothal has been broken,” Neji tells Hinata.

“Let me be the one to speak to him,” she protests, and, yet again, Neji cannot refuse her.

He never learns what Hinata had told Kou. Only, an hour later, there’s a knock on his study door, and Kou’s bowing low, asking for Neji to break off his betrothal to Hinata. As the new head of the Hyuga, Neji’s all too pleased to grant this first request.

*** The following months are spent settling clan disputes, restoring the compound from the damages caused by war, and scouring ancient scrolls for ways to remove the Caged Bird seal. His decision to meld main and branch families had been highly contentious with the council, but Neji has never been the one to back down. He’d seen enough in his short life to know that the old system brought more grief than use.

Hinata’s by his side every step of the way, supporting him with wise, measured counsel and, on occasion, tempering his proud nature, and for that, Neji is grateful.

When, after weeks of searching, he finally discovers the jutsu to end the Caged Bird seal, Neji insists that Hinata be the first one to have her seal removed.

“Are you scared?” Neji asks softly, settling down in front of Hinata on the cool wooden floor of his study.

“No,” Hinata shakes her head and smiles lightly, “I trust you.”

Neji nods and leans forward, gently lifting Hinata’s bangs with one hand to reveal the mark on her forehead. Taking a deep breath, he concentrates, making a sign with his free hand. Between a heartbeat and the next, nothing happens – then, slowly, the mark starts to pale.

Hinata lets out a sharp, shaky breath through her teeth and almost loses balance, but Neji steadies her. When he looks at Hinata’s forehead again, the mark is gone.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his heart clenching with worry as he holds Hinata.

“A little dizzy, but otherwise alright,” she says, trembling slightly, “Is it gone?”

“It is,” Neji confirms, and a bright smile blooms upon her face.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

*** It is on a crisp spring morning that Neji asks Hinata to be his wife. They’ve trained together since dawn, and, as Neji looks at Hinata, sweat-slicked and flushed, drinking tea sitting next to him on the terrace and telling him excitedly about the new flowers she’s planting in the garden, the words slip his lips, unbidden.

Hinata stills, then tilts her head to the side, looking at him with curious eyes.

“I thought you’d already promised to be by my side forever,” she smiles coyly, looking at Neji through her eyelashes.

“I have,” Neji readily agrees, shifting closer, “But you haven’t.”

Neji knows she loves him, and yet, his heart is in his throat as he awaits her answer.

“Well, then we must fix this dreadful oversight,” Hinata chuckles, and Neji pulls her in and kisses her.

*** Neji thinks it is a kind of karmic justice when Kiba and Shino corner him a month before the wedding as he’s leaving the Hokage’s tower – just like he did to them all those years ago.

“Treat Hinata with respect,” Kiba frowns and crosses his arms in front of his chest in an attempt to look intimidating, and Akamaru barks in agreement.

“Treat her with kindness, and we will not have a problem,” Shino adds, echoing Neji’s own words.

As Neji looks at Hinata’s teammates, he cannot help but smile. It warms his heart to know that Hinata always had friends outside the family to rely on and that they care deeply about her well-being. He recognizes now how sorely he misjudged them all those years ago.

“You have my word,” he promises.

*** On their wedding, Hinata is a tiny, delicate thing – utterly breathtaking, clad in her white and silver kimono. Neji can hardly keep his eyes off her long enough to accept congratulations with the grace and poise befitting the head of the Hyuga clan.

Their wedding is a grandiose affair – the elders have insisted that the head of the clan simply cannot get married in a small ceremony at the temple. Still, seeing all their friends eat, drink and make merry brings a smile to Neji’s lips, and he cannot begrudge the elders their decision. The wounds left by the war are still fresh in everyone’s hearts, but it’s good to see that their friends can still enjoy the simpler pleasures of life.

Smiling, Neji reaches for Hinata’s hand and pulls it to his lips, brushing featherlight kisses against her knuckles. Hinata glances at him coyly through her eyelashes and smiles her rich little rosebud smile, sending Neji’s heart racing.

“Do you think they will notice if we sneak away?” Neji murmurs into her ear, enjoying the bright pink blush the question brings to her face.

“I think we can take our chances.”

[juulz]

Hi Juulz, welcome back! I'm glad you had a good trip!

It pumps me the fuck up to know you enjoy my analyses and that based on the tags, find them helpful in arranging ideas. That is the highest honor for a little fangirl such as myself. I am a shameless lore whore, so getting to piece things together and unraveling the backstory is so much fun. So is brainstorming additional story details canon leaves out or unclear.

I've heard people say that, "assuming makes an ass out of you and me both," and I think I see why lmfao. Between me being a hopeless romantic, calling on common narratives and assuming there would be an overaching theme of love between the Misfits and AWSB AUs (even if they ultimately played out differently), I read into things a little off. That said, I'm not disappointed in this take and I'm actually curious about how it's going to play out. Be it something as simple as Misfit! Silver being an Aromantic Pansexual, or something as deliciously tragic as him being too emotionally broken down to acknowledge his own feelings, or hell, being capable of geniune love at all. There's plenty of options for you to chose from, and either way, it's content for me to eat.

Leaving the concept of Silver's ex a blank slate is good for me as well, as I can play around with different ideas and scenarios when I'm bored and adapt it to whatever I'm craving.

And yeah, I see your point of Silver caring for his ex and possibly Gold in a non-romantic/non-familial platonic way. Honestly, platonic love is more sacred, Western Culture just hypes romance up too much (and I'm a victim of that brainwashIng). I have to laugh, because the more we chat about the AUs the more I kin your Golds. This particular conversation really makes me feel connected to Gold as I remained infatuated with my first love for years despite him being in and out of my life and usually not a good influence. I've crushed on a guy-friend I went to highschool with who was aroace. I loved one of my childhood friends before I understood I was bi, and watched her love other people and watched get her heart broken repeatedly, but grew to love her only platonically later. I had pretty strong feelings for a girl who cared about me so little she laughed when she heard about my botched suicide attempt. And I had a massive crush on a guy-friend from college who had a limerent crush on someone else and we became even better friends after he rejected me.

That last one is particularly funny for me because my mom, shortly before she passed, had really shipped us and said, "I can tell he loves you, maybe not in a romantic sense, but he loves you regardless. I wish he was in love with though, because he sounds like a young man I'd trust with my daughter". I don't care if anyone else sees this, it's the internet, it's anonymous. Besides, it's my canon event, it happened, I survived and got better.

Oh, and thank you for linking the flashback image. I remember seeing it before, but I think I had paid more attention to Gold's half, while overlooking one of the potential implication's of Silver's. I'm not sure how I missed that. Catholic school boy probably means more than religious trauma. Lastly, would you be interested in hearing some songs that make me think of Silver? I've been wanting to make a playlist. It'll probably be multiversal though so I don't have to make specific playlists for different characterizations.

Thank you, it’s been fantastic! Trying to get back into the grind now.

I enjoy reading all feedback and especially when it’s so thought through and thorough. It can be hard to pack all the details and nuances into a couple of panels, so I’m always down to talk about the AUs to clarify and/or expand upon or just to chat in general. As long as it’s not a spoiler ;)

The overreaching theme of love may yet be possible, but if we’re talking about “Nothing” comics, it’s too early into the story to be anything but one-sided. After realizing his crush (and losing some of his 'clients' and out of fear for his life) Gold starts hanging more around that pub where Silver’s band plays and practices. They do drugs, fuck around after gigs and in between, but in the end Gold’s no more than a groupie competing with the other groupies for some dick to suck.

I recall mentioning it somewhere, possibly twtr, Silver’s response comes off as harsh, but this has not been the first time Gold’s confessed. Not even the second. An obsessed fan threatening to off themselves unless they get a return confession. He’d seen this before, he detests blackmail, and still Silver breaks that door down and drags Gold’s pissy ass to the A&E for he wants no one else OD’ing on him, willfully or otherwise.

If I ever write a fic this would be covered, but as things are I don’t mind leaving it vague even if it paints Silver more of an asshole than he really is. It also makes Gold lessmore pathetic.

Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I’m really glad you’re doing better now.

I tend to see bits of myself in both of the characters, as most creatives do. Losing a friend to an intentional overdose, trashy underground parties and gigs and overall nonconformity being my canon events. Not autobiographical of course, I wouldn't (probably even be able to) let my life get as fucked up as theirs, but that’s the fun of cooking up these AUs, exploring the extremes and subjecting my faves to the what-ifs.

Catholic school boy probably means more than religious trauma

You may assume the worst here.

Oh, please do! I’d be stoked to hear which songs you associate with the lads. I myself don’t have a playlist assembled for Misfits AU, but there was one for AWSB.